The Cosmos Report
by Doctor Burrito
Summary: The tale of The Scholar, an angel in ministry for Cosmos, planning Her coming war with Chaos. All is not as it seems in "Heaven", though. The afterlife of the Final Fantasy Universe is about to be plunged into a terrible conflict with a great price.
1. Chapter 1

I am the Scholar.

I am the fore of Lady Cosmos' selection team. I have been tasked to prepare information, along with the rest of my team, concerning which champions to employ against the Lord Chaos in order to bring him to justice at last. My job is a simple one. I must deduce how well each choice will work with others, how well they will work for us, and how lethal they should prove.

It is not easy work, working for this Goddess. Other angels have taken much easier employment with other Gods. I have a friend who is employed by Altana, and a brother who works for Faram, and neither of them seem to have the problems I do. Which is something, because Faram does not have an easy world to work in.

But that's not what I'm supposed to be recording here. Chaos and Cosmos are fated to fight for eternity. There can never be harmony between Order and Disorder, and every time a world is made, invariably these two stick their noses in it and start a war. Chaos has lost 12 times now, and Cosmos has made a name among the Gods for solving the problems Chaos stirs up on their worlds.

Chaos has challenged The Lady to yet another match, though the odds are somewhat different this time. As a 13th world is being prepared, Chaos wishes to challenge the legitimacy of Cosmos' victories. He has summoned 10 champions, and the Lady has asked that I and my team prepare 10 champions for her, that Chaos might be stopped.

And it will not be easy. Once a man myself, I look out at the sea of souls who have unwittingly served Cosmos and fought Chaos, and I feel nothing but guilt. How can the Gods be so crass? Men are not pawns, to be pitted in simple war-games. Men are Gods waiting for a chance to shine, and I am not so sure that Cosmos will give them that chance.

After all, what Order is there in so much brilliance?

Ah, but the others are arriving. We will be debating our first champion soon. A hero, we must pick, from Chaos and Cosmos' first war, from a conflict all too personal in this matter.

The meeting is under way now, and the Engineer has dropped the dockets on the table. My team each takes one and begins to Scan them. There are only Six Candidates, and we will be debating them each. I am lead to believe Six is a high number, and that we are being this careful because Lady Cosmos remembers these warriors personally.

Yet no world is named as their home, which bothers me. Nothing, it seems, is even known about the pasts of these six people. Names are not even assigned to them. It's a little bothersome, really. If Cosmos loves these six so much, why has she not recorded anything about them for us? We have only their deeds to go off of, and that is not a good sign.

I once temped for a God who wanted to choose a human bride (another bothersome trait of Gods. They deny the right of man to be one of them, then gladly sex up whatever man they like. Well, not all Gods, but more than you'd think.) and all we had was a list of her accomplishments in life. We were to assess her willingness to wed a God, or rather, to be bedded by a God, and to assess how this would impact her faith in said God.

Sadly, the list did not mention marriage as a part of her accomplishments, and so when we deemed her entirely likely to survive the encounter (she was healthy, and if Gods are going the sex route instead of immaculate, it can get disastrous) and to be in good faith when it ended. A pleasant dream at best. One she wouldn't share, but wouldn't feel ashamed of.

She was absolutely mortified to hear the proposal, rejected her own God, and became his enemy for the rest of her days, eventually leading to a break down in that society, and the end of a civilization.

It has been a long, hard trip back to employment since then.

My friend, The Chronicler, has closed his docket and passed it across the table. I have not even read mine. I don't need to. No one called "The Black Mage of Light" could possibly prove loyal to Cosmos. It sounds harsh, it's true, but there is a very small amount of time in which we can choose these candidates, and, given that Chaos has chosen his personal Avatar, Garland, to represent this world, we're looking for someone who can compete with Garland a little more evenly.

No offense to this Black Mage of Light, but Black Magic against someone like Chaos's personal Avatar is never going to work.

We have narrowed our choices down to two men. Which must sound sexist at first, but in our defense, there was only one woman in the lot, and she was the White Mage of Light. What good is a healer against the human incarnation of Chaos?

I will here record the two candidates, and then our decision:

Name: The Light Monk.  
Species: Hume  
Age: 23

The Light Monk, not actually one of the four "Light Warriors", was a close companion of the group, along with the White Mage of Light. A powerful young man whose origins were, like his comrades, largely unknown. It is believed he was raised by a sect of monks who lived high in the mountains above the city-state of Gaia. It was believed that he and the White Mage of Light may have been lovers, but this report makes no use of such information.

The Light Monk, unusual amongst men, fought with his hands, rather than with a sword. At best he'd use nunchucks at times. He also wore little armor. We believe this is detrimental to facing Garland, who is known for heavy armor and weaponry. Nevertheless, the Light Monk was an incredibly strong individual, and his physical prowess allowed the Light Warriors to defeat Kraken, Chaos's Fiend of Water.

Unfortunately, the Light Monk met his end long before the Light Warriors ever reached Garland. He was defeated by Malirith, the Fiend of Fire. His death, however, was undone by the triumphs of the team over Chaos.

It is believed that memories of dying, if restored, could prove painful, but also would provoke him to stopping Garland, that he may return alive to his home.

We are considering The Light Monk because he is a swift and powerful young man. His fists can pierce steel, and he is capable of performing a blade-catch. More to the point, he worked well with others and, as a Monk, would be very loyal to Cosmos, his religious convictions compelling him to work for her.

To that end, the Light Monk is scored as follows:

Team Work: 100%- He was willing to die that others could live.

Lethality: 75%- The Light Monk's fists impact with a great amount of speed and force, it's true, and many monsters fell before him. But he was not known for mastery of Blitzes.

Faith: 80%- The Light Monk was a devout follower of Cosmos prior to his death. He would continue to serve her here as long as all he knew was that he was serving The Lady. Should he realize that this battle changes nothing, and that Chaos and Cosmos will war again after it's conclusion, his faith might shake.

Opposition: 51%- The Light Monk is a powerful young man, but he never actually confronted Garland. He was not present when the Light Warriors killed him, and he was not present when Garland became Chaos. His power to fight Garland is questionable in that respect.

Name: The Warrior of Light  
Species: Hume  
Age: 24

The Warrior of Light. What to say about this young man? Well first that his face is what caught my attention. It's hard to explain to angels who never saw heroes in their life what one looks like. Normally they name their Gods or parents as heroes, but this man, I looked at his face and I just knew. Here was the hero we were looking for. But that is personal opinion. It does not factor into the equation.

The Warrior of Light was the leader of the Light Warriors in their quest to stop Garland. He was not the brightest of men by any means, his intelligence was humble, it's true, but he had a kind heart and forgave more people than one could possibly imagine. Blessed by Cosmos' Light, the Warrior, who normally was without magic, could manifest blades of light to add to his own.

It's possible he was a soldier in the military of Corneria prior to Garland's defection, but this is not known for certain. Mere rumors are all Cosmos has left us to work on! Where is the fact? The sources? How can this Goddess expect us to operate without full canon?

Nonetheless, The Warrior was brave beyond words, and a man much more of emotion than thought. Moved by the Light Monk's death, he defeated Malirith himself, ruining her once beautiful body, breaking her again and again, leaving her a wasted husk. His power with the sword was unparalleled in his world, he having defeated Garland in a duel at the start of their journey.

Not as devout a follower as the Light Monk, the Warrior of Light was still a good man with a lot of faith. Surely the restoration of his memories, coupled with having to face Garland again, would not break this man's faith in Cosmos. The fact that he wasn't exactly a genius makes it very likely that he could not fully grasp what was going on here, and thus is less likely to lose faith.

In short, because he's an idiot, the fact that he's less faithful doesn't matter.

Nevertheless, this man was a great leader, given his comrades. But even more important than the fact that he could lead a team to break a cycle which would have given Chaos command of Time makes him a very, very impressive individual. More important than even that, The Warrior of Light works exceptionally well with others. The fact that he can forgive almost any sin against him makes him the best of soldiers for Cosmos.

Team Work: 90%- The Warrior forgives almost any sin committed against him, but some people have gone too far. Garland's attempt to live forever by killing and dying forever was apparently something the Warrior deemed unforgivable. In fact, it seems he is a firm believer in the fact that a man can change his own destiny.

Faithfulness: 78%- The Warrior cannot comprehend every aspect of his religion, and thus is capable of drawing the wrong conclusions. It is highly unlikely he would ever turn on Cosmos, though. Surely he wouldn't abandon the crystals.

Lethality: 79%- The Warrior dispatched a great number of demons along the way to Chaos, and all of them were left a mangled mess when he finished. For a man as kind and humble as he, brutality toward monsters is second nature for him.

Opposition: 80%- The Warrior defeated Garland twice, and while once doing that he was playing into Chaos' hands, the second time frustrated Chaos' entire plans and set the God into the desperate struggle he finds himself now.

We may revise the scoring system at a later point. The percentage system displeases The Wanderer. He would rather we go for 1-10, despite the Engineer repeatedly pointing out percentages are more precise, despite being almost the same.

Our conclusion, of course, was inevitable. Given the Light Monk and the Warrior of Light's records, it was only a matter of time.

A decision was made, and we are all entirely comfortable with it.

The Warrior of Light has been selected over the Light Monk. He is simply a better decision. Sure, the Light Monk is more loyal to the Lady, but The Warrior is not likely to ever crack what is really happening here. Not from Garland, his foe. Even Chaos wouldn't be so foolish as to allow his Mouth to spill the truth of this conflict.

A swordsman, the Warrior will be able to strike blow for blow against Garland. Faced with the Story, that should he fail his past efforts will be undone, is most likely to spur him to undo Garland as quickly as possible. We believe this to be likely given the fact that, when he saw a comrade fall in battle, The Warrior fought much more powerfully and quickly. He will do so again to save the lives of his friends back home.

The decision made, The Messenger is now carrying our words to Lady Cosmos. We are sure she will be pleased with this decision. It is a little unnerving, though, as from here on out the process both simplifies and grows much more difficult.

We shall have fewer candidates for champions from Cosmos' other projects, it's true, but she cannot simply provide us with the souls we require. We await approval from the Gods of these prospective worlds before we can continue our plan. Yes, sadly, there is red tape even in Heaven.

At least, there is red tape when it comes to Wars and Politics in Heaven.


	2. Chapter 2

The God we must now wait on is one of my least favorite to have dealings with. Known only to outsiders as The Sire, this God is highly secretive, and is hardly ever seen. His throne in Arruboth is hardly ever found, and almost never linked back to the Nebula Sacris, the Sacred Crystal Star where the Gods come together.

The Sire's angels never complain, though. In fact, no one who ever dies righteous on his world has ever once complained. The Sire is simply that good. He occasionally reaches down to his world to institute matters of policy, or to fix problems, but in general he leaves things running on their own. His wife is perhaps even more secretive. All that's known about her is that she likes bells.

There is no telling how long it will take before The Sire decides whether he'll lend permission or not. After all, the only action he took during the time Cosmos and Chaos fought on his world was to show some of Cosmos' cast-offs that a man masquerading as Lord of Arruboth was a liar.

This war may well be over before we hear from The Sire.

I'd like to state, before releasing this to the public, because I understand that a fair number of angels out there still gossip, despite our being in Heaven, that what I am about to show you is of a personal nature. When I made the decision to include this in my report, I did not understand that there was a relationship between The Sire and Lady Cosmos. And while I feel that I must choose this team for Cosmos, I am also obligated to share this with the general public.

Since Nebula Sacris has not called together the Quorum of the Gods in 60 thousand years, I must expose this war. I do not particularly desire to help it along, as I am doing, but I must do so nonetheless. I am a professional angel, and I have taken Ministry with Lady Cosmos in order to select a team of champions to aide her in this war. It is what I do. It is why I am called the Scholar.

But my conscience is real. I cannot sit by and watch men war for the sake of a game played by Gods. I will release this report, and then Nebula Sacris will be forced to take action against The Lady and The Lord. Order and Disorder will be made to cease this battle. I know I am fighting a crusade against forces far older than I, but I must make my stand.

But I digress. The following letter is from The Sire to Cosmos. It is a writ of permission from He to She, allowing her to take her pick of his warriors. It reads:

_Princess,_

Are you sure you want to go through with this, honey? These wars you and Chaos have fought have been settled. You ought to be the better Goddess and simply refuse his challenge. Haven't the souls of men shown you time and again that they will choose harmony over dischord?

But if you will go through with this, I will make my suggestions. I have, in fact, only four to make for you. The first is a man who died to save his kingdom, and whom I place in high esteem. He is Prince Scott of Kashuan. I watched him struggle with Chaos' champion, Mateus, when he pretended to be my Avatar. A fine man, if ever there was one. The second is a High Priest by the name of Minwu. Minwu, seeing that his friends required a great power to stop a great evil, gave up his life to get the job done. He is a shrewd and selfless man.

The third man is a Ninja, named Paul. I would rather not explain much about why I choose him, but I will tell you that, in the name of the Wild Rose, he provided a great Service for me, and that while his world will never know it, Chaos, through the Prodigal (You remember The Prodigal, right, sweetie?) would long have taken the world.

And the fourth man is a one named Firion. Courageous, impetuous, and daring, Firion dedicated everything to stopping Chaos. He is a good man, but he may be less interesting to you, because of the nature of his life.

These four men I offer to your staff. If you must fight, you may take any of them you so desire. I will not hold anything back from my princess. Just be careful darling.

With Love,

Daddy.

Four candidates. Fun. No angel really wants to spend all day sifting through four lives, examining minute details to tell if a man will crack or not when he takes up ministry for a God. And let me tell you, attention to details is of the utmost importance. I once knew a team who skipped one day, just ONE DAY in the life of a man, only to learn that this one day he committed as many sins as possible before going back to his normal, God-fearing life.

He lost the challenge completely.

Our choices were Scott, Minwu, Paul and Firion. And these are not, obviously, easy choices to make. A Prince, a Priest, a Ninja and a . . . well, there really isn't a good word for Firion. He was just a man. He was too young to have taken any manner of profession by the time he began to fight the Emperor, and he was never notable enough before that to have earned himself a title.

In fact, nothing is really known of who Firion was before the Wild Rose. He was a friend of Maria and Lionheart, as well as of Guy, and the four of them escaped the city together, but before that, nothing is here written concerning Firion's past.

Which is about par for the course for The Sire. The God keeps a great amount of secrets. Too great an amount. But his track records at Nebula Sacris (scant as they are), combined with the fact that no man has ever complained who was born on his world, are to his credit. We can trust The Sire in this conflict, which is something to take heart in. Cosmos and Chaos are not so simple as what is good and what is wrong, but more like what is fair and what is not.

Though I'll be damned if I know which God is fair and which is unfair.

The Wanderer has had his way. We will be ranking from 1-10 from now on. The Engineer disapproves, but hands us the dockets anyway. The Chronicler has taken one, and now that The Messenger has returned, so may I.

And I have drawn the man named Paul the Ninja.

Name: Paul "the Ninja"  
Species: Hume  
Age: 34.

Paul the Ninja comes highly recommended of the Sire. While normally we ignore the recommendations of Gods (something which has made my team rather unique amongst Selection Teams) this is a special occasion. The Sire is Lady Cosmos' father, and she would be furious to learn we simply tossed his suggestion aside. Which is ironic, since if she listened to her father, she'd cast aside this war with Chaos right away. Ah, but I am but an Angel, and it's doubtful I'll ever reach Godhood if I constantly question the Gods for whom I Minister.

Paul the Ninja is an obscure man in the history of his world. He was a Ninja employed by the Wild Rose Rebellion, which is odd, given the nature of that group. Normally a Ninja is not required by rebels, just a mere spy. Yet Paul was a Ninja, and he did in fact do more than simply investigate his enemies and the enemies of Queen Hilda.

Paul is unusual, for the number of Ninjas I have seen. He does not dress himself all in black to conceal his person. Rather, his person conceals him. He is an absolutely unassuming man, who, when viewed, is easily overlooked. Whereas the Warrior of Light inspires one to believe in heroes, Paul the Ninja invites one to simply keep looking around.

It so happens that Paul was familiar with the ways into Castle Palamecia. This, it so happens, is because he was sent in to assassinate Emperor Sauzer Palamecia after his son, Mateus, was born. Sauzer had offered the world his daughter's hand if any man could reach her in the top of his massive castle. Many men, entranced by the beauty of Yoyo Palamecia, died trying to climb through that castle.

King Kahna Deist, Queen Emma Kashuan, and King Palpaleos Fynn came together when they learned that a man named Mid, the brother of the Fynnish White Knight Cid, had claimed Palamecia's daughter as his bride and that she was pregnant. Their intent was clear. They would have the Emperor ended, before he could ever put the world in such peril again. Indeed, there was no telling what other madness swam in the man's mind, he having claimed Mid had cheated.

And their plan went off without a hitch. Just days before the new Emperor was born, the old was assassinated by Paul. If this is the great service he performed The Sire, I shudder to know what compels a God to believe murder is service. Sauzer was mad, yes, but a murder is a solemn thing, however righteous.

Only one other action is attributed to Paul. At one point, it claims, he returned to Palamecia's Coliseum after Mateus' death and placed a single coin into the sands. But this is entirely without meaning or bearing upon our job.

The others have now read Paul's docket as well, and we are prepared to deliver our new scores to him:

Team Work: 3/10. Paul never once worked with others. This does not mean he was rude or prideful, but he does not operate well with others. While the Warrior we have chosen as the leader, Paul does not make for a good follow up. We desire leadership qualities in all Champions, but without having worked in a group, we cannot even gauge if Paul has these.

Faith: 6/10. Paul "performed a great service" for The Sire, but without knowing what that is, we cannot know for certain how faithful to the lady will be. However, he is used to handling dirty assignments for those he believes in, and the secretive nature of his profession makes it likely that he would not divulge the truth about what is really happening to the others, and that he would finish the job for Lady Cosmos.

Lethality: 5/10. Though an effective assassin, it's not likely Paul would do as well in open combat, and, in fact, he is not known to have ever participated in an actual battle. Paul was an ordinary man who was fairly good at killing people and not getting caught.

Opposition: 2/10. Paul killed Mateus' grandfather, and while we can't be sure he'd feel remorse, we can be sure it would effect his ability to fight Mateus at all. Especially since Mateus' grandfathers' death is part of what caused his wrath against the other nations of the world. That said, Paul was only a man who was sneaky, and we are not confident he could off a man who became well loved by The Prodigal, so much so that he was given a Palace in Hell.

I have been handed the next docket, and it looks like it's time to start digging into it. The team will of course read the others while I go over this, but as group leader, I am granted a little extra time to go over things. You don't get my job without earning a little respect along the way.

Name: Scott de Kashua, Crown Prince of Kashuan.  
Species: Hume  
Age: 27

I must be frank: I have met Scott de Kashua. He is a kind man, and a brave one, but he is at peace. His greatest anxiety was watching his brother, Gordon. Scott is at rest. He is waiting to be promoted to an angel, and plans to Minister for The Sire as a Seraphim-- that quorum of Angels most revered. The road to the Choir of Seraphim is as difficult for an angel to make as the road to the choir of Elohim for the Gods. Trials upon trials are required, but a Seraphim is the closest thing to a God an angel can be without actually Ascending.

But of course, you, my fellow angels, are familiar with this. The ordering of angels is nothing new, and I shall not dwell on it. My point is this: Scott de Kashua is dead. Very sincerely dead. And he is fine with that. Happy, in fact. He works and studies long and hard now, a new purpose replacing his old one, and his eternity is one with aspirations and yet rest.

This man does not need to be ripped from his work to be made a pawn in an eternal chess game. No, Scott de Kashua deserves more than to be forced to play fool and jester for Cosmos, and I, who count myself his friend, will not do that to him.

Nevertheless, The Lady will demand our opinion, and thus I will give it. But with the Gods as my witness, I will not now, nor shall I ever condemn this man to slave for Cosmos.

In his lifetime, Scott de Kashua, son of that Queen's son who condemned Sauzer Mateus to death, founded the Wild Rose Rebellion, along with Hilda of Fynn, his lover, their parents, and a number of others. Scott saw his kingdom eviscerated completely by Mateus' hordes. Children, the Emperor and the Prince, both made to pay for their parents' sins. Kashuan was gutted, it's people scattered to the winds, it's Princes all that left of the Royal family.

And Scott, seeing his beloved's nation suffering the same fate, seethed with rage. He stormed the nation himself, seeking to free it's people. But Scott de Kashua, despite the flames of his love, was one man against an army of demons. And he died not long after.

And he found his soul awake in a labrynth of lies created by Mateus. When a man dies, normally he makes a short journey along whatever path their God dictates, they then arrive in whatever waiting area their God asks, and are then Judged. If he lived a good life, he is admitted to the heavens, and generally he is invited to study to be an angel, after which he may work his way through eternity to be a God in his own right, the original idea, according to the Creed of Nebula Sacris, is to forever continue this cycle: "A trillion stars a God." But as of late fewer and fewer angels have been Ascending.

Nonetheless, if a man is evil, he has two options: beg forgiveness and accept punishment, eventually being allowed to become an angel, or stand firm in his actions and be turned over to Hell. You would be surprised how many people choose the second option.

So Scott's predicament was unusual, and he, along with three others, eventually came to the "throne" of Mateus the Light. The Sire, I understand, showed these men their loved ones, and they realized the ploy. These four men overcame Mateus and helped to further fragment his soul.

I would love to know how it is that Chaos put him back together again.

Team Work: 5/10. Scott worked with three men, two of whom he barely knew, to overcome an enemy. However, when moved upon by rage, he stormed Fynn alone, and it cost him his life. We cannot, in the coming war, depend on so emotional a man, or rather, a man who fails so completely in rage, to face Mateus.

Lethality: 3/10. Scott is a powerful warrior among mere men, his spirit having destroyed as many demons as The Prodigal and Mateus could summon against him, but his flesh was considerably less able to fight the Unholy. To that end we rank Scott low.

Faith: 4/10. Scott would not know what was going on, but having been dead some time, he would be more likely to figure out what was going on. He was faithful his whole life to The Sire, and endeavored to strike down demons at the cost of his own life. But Scott's heart would break to see himself and Mateus fighting again. It is hard to judge if he would have forgiven Mateus in the false Arruboth or not, but what is for certain is that he would not be happy to fight Mateus again, especially if he understood why The Lady and The Lord were making them fight. Despite these things, Scott WOULD endeavor to stop Mateus from changing history, even if it meant he would live again. He accepted his death long ago.

Opposition: 3/10. Scott and Mateus were enemies only because of the actions of their grandparents, and this is something he is aware of. Given the length of time he has been dead, Scott is not likely to wish to draw a sword again. He did despise everything Mateus stood for, but a part of him did not ever seem to hate the actual person.

Name: Minwu  
Species: Hume  
Sex: Male  
Age: 31

Minwu was a child prodigy. Though The Sire does not directly interfere with his followers very often, he still requests they do follow him enough to avoid major temptations by The Prodigal. And as we all know, when Gods set up rules to help people, that's more or less a religion. And in this religion, Minwu was a prodigy of a man.

At the young age of ten, Minwu had read all texts his world had to offer him on religion, and had mastered rudimentary white magic. He was accepted into the Priesthood not long after that, and began to learn that art The Gods have set forth for the easing of man's life, and for the calming of the Dragon known as Suffering.

So when, at age 31, Minwu received a mission from the Wild Rose, he was prepared. At all times he was prepared. He firmly believed what he was doing was right, and that, should he die in that task, his God would have nothing ill to say of him.

Minwu's faith was put to the test when his Queen, the Lady Hilda, asked him to unseal Ultima, a force all angels are fully aware of- a Power which even the Gods are loathe to use unless pressed to do so. Minwu knew this meant his death, yet he worried not, and fulfilled his assigned task. He shattered the Seal of Ultima, and gave his life to do so, that Tyranny might fall, and that Hell would be turned back.

But it was not that simple. Minwu found himself wandering the same afterways as Scott, and together with a few others, they made their way to a false Arrubboth, where they met the "Light" Emperor. Shown the truth by The Sire by means of a vision of his Queen, Minwu challenged Mateus and overcame him, breaking his soul to thousands of pieces.

Unfortunately, few men of faith can be like unto Cidolfas Orlandeau, and Minwu was not one of these. Though his spirit was mighty, Minwu's body was not. A powerful White Wizard he was, and consequentially, he was not as amazing a warrior.

Team Work: 10/10- For being willing to die for the team, we award Minwu the highest possible score in this category. No man works better with others than the one who would surrender his own life, trusting that his team will finish the job when he is gone. Such a leap of faith is incredible, and, wise or not, is a true testament to how well this man would work with others.

Faith: 8/10- Minwu served Lady Cosmos' Father all his days, and, should he learn that he was working for her, it's likely he would continue to serve her nonetheless. We allow, however, that it is possible Minwu could sacrifice himself for a member of his party who would go on to betray the team, and therefore we do not score him perfectly.

Lethality: 1/10- It's not likely that Minwu could defeat Mateus on his own. His spirit did triumph over Mateus', but his flesh was not so lucky, and since we would have to grant him a body for this competition, he would be constrained by his mortal self.

Opposition: 3/10- Minwu did not like Mateus, that is true, and he sacrificed his life to stop the man, yes, but at the same time, had he not been shown a vision by The Sire, he would have been taken in by Mateus' ruse. We require a man who defied Mateus on his own, someone who needed no help in doing this.

This leaves just one candidate to judge for the lady before we move on to the next set. Deliberations will be difficult here, as well, it seems. The others dislike the way I scored Scott, and there are some dissenting opinions. There is talk of my losing impartiality in this task, and I have heard one mutter that I will need removed.

It strikes me that my expose will not be the only one published to the general Heaven at the end of this. I'm risking my wings, though, so I've got to be thorough. I will do this job for Cosmos, that is undeniable, but I will NOT remain silent when this is done. It is time people know.

Name: Firion  
Species: Hume  
Sex: Male  
Age:24

Little is known of the origin of the man called Firion. It is believed he was born in the city of Salamand, and that after the deaths of his parents, he vowed to find a treasure to fill the void. Though I cannot be certain on the truth of that. It's marked vaguely as "desired a great worth."

At some point in his late child hood, Firion made his way with a caravan to Fynn, where he stayed. Enchanted by the big city, Firion believed this to be the thing he sought. Some small time later he met the siblings, Maria and Leonheart, as well as the child known as Guy. Guy, unlike the others, had never had any formal education, and came across as somewhat dumb. Despite this, he was loved by the others, especially since his size scared the other street urchins off.

Firion, Maria, Guy, and Leonheart were among the hundreds who fled Fynn when Mateus Palamecia invaded. At this time Firion was just a little younger than Mateus, but he was already a man so different that the two could hardly be classified together.

Mateus had been raised by his mother in the high towers of Palamecia, looking down on the world whether he wanted to or not. His grandfather's failings hanging from every rafter, Mateus looked out at the world and desired to restore his honor and maintain order.

But Firion had never known anything but freedom, his entire life. He was living proof that a human being could grow without enforcements and still be a good person. And so, when Mateus "occupied" Fynn on the pretense of restoring order in what he believed was his own Empire, Firion's anger kindled.

It would be a long and winding road before the two would meet, though, and on that road Firion saw friend after friend die, trying to forestall Mateus' so-called Order. He was gifted the force of Ultima, that spell which even the Gods are loth to use, and, despite suddenly wielding the force to enforce his wants upon all the world, Firion never cast that spell against any but the Emperor.

By Firion's sword Mateus fell, and, when he confronted him in the bowels of Pandemonium, Mateus very soul was shattered by Firion's ferocity. This is a young man who stood up to demons and conquered them with nothing more than his own flesh and bone, not even desiring to use the terrible forces he was granted.

To that end, Firion is scored as follows:

Team Work: 7/10. Firion worked well whether he was alone or in a group. He was only once vulnerable on his own, and that was in the face of a confusing temptation. He was utterly human in this regard. He was willful, yet subject to the same temptations as other men his age, and willing to rely upon the aid of others when he needed it.

Lethality: 4/10. Aside from the Ultima spell, Firion was a very mortal man with nothing major working for him. He slaughtered legions of the Unholy, yet Chaos has chosen only the cream of the crop. Firion's body would not stand well if ganged up upon by say, Sephiroth, Jecht, and Ex-Death.

Faith: 3/10. Firion was a force dedicated to freedom, and so long as he fights for that, he is likely to serve the Lady well. However, if he were told even what Cosmos was a Goddess of, his faith could diminish greatly. The term "Order" leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Should he learn the truth, Firion would loose most of his drive to fight.

Opposition: 8/10. Firion was absolutely against everything Mateus stood for. Everything that Mateus was- rich, powerful, refined, educated, graceful, beautiful, Firion was not. These two men were practically made to be opposites. The reason that Firion does not score higher is because he did not know Mateus personally. If there was more of a personal connection, in addition to the deep-rooted opposition between the two, they would be absolutely made to hate each other.

That said, we will now begin our deliberations. I expect quite the battle, especially against The Wanderer, who enjoys arguing for argument's sake. Consider: He now suggests we grade on a letter scale instead of a numeric scale at all. The Engineer's face has changed six shades darker, and I do not believe we will resolve this with ease.

Deliberations have ceased now.

It was not easy. The others were strongly in favor of Scott. I convinced them, however, to see things in another light. Yes, Scott was able to stop the "Light" Emperor from spreading his "divine" hands out upon the face of the world, but Scott's battle was one of Wills, of Spirits. Firion defeated Mateus, body and spirit.

And that's an important factor.

Though some of these people are dead now, they will battle as beings of flesh and blood. Injury and wounding is a very real possibility. This is why The Black Mage of Light would have made a bad choice. This is why the Light Monk was not chosen. Their bodies were exposed and weak to Garland's blade. The Lady does not need her champions to die. History is on the line here (note: History is not on the line here. If anything goes wrong, Cosmos would surely challenge Chaos again. These battles prove nothing anyway, in the way of supremacy. A thirteenth war is already in the works between them.) and the Lady would be furious to lose.

To that end I asserted Firion over Scott. Scott was killed by low ranking demons. Firion battered his way through legions of the unholy to shatter the very spirit of his enemy. A man who is not content to merely kill his enemy is excessively thorough, and that is something the Lady wants.

Though the team resents me at the moment, they will move on. The Messenger sends our findings and decisions to The Lady. In the mean time, we will simply wait. I know the anger on their faces all too well. It is not easy to work with me. I have become something of a designer brand in the selection of Champions, and as such, I work the team too hard and never break on my opinions. Perhaps I shall seek some new ministry when this task is completed. I have always wanted to actually be more involved with the musical aspects of being an Angel. I am a member of a general Choir, yes, but I don't think I'd mind actually singing or playing an instrument for once. Maybe not a harp, but hey, this is Heaven. Would we really only have just one instrument to hear for the rest of eternity?

The Messenger returns now. He cannot, of course, speak to us about how Cosmos reacted. He is contractually bound never to speak of anything he saw in Her presence. It's another one of those failings of a vast majority of The Gods. True, not all Gods are this way, but too many are like Cosmos- hiding themselves from all but their Consorts, Spouses, and Aides, and, in the rare occasions where a God still has a child with another God, that child.


	3. Chapter 3

How does a Goddess rule over so many souls without ever meeting them? What kind of way is that to run a religion? "Hello, I'm your God. Do everything I say, and, oh yeah, for all your service when you die you still won't have a confirmation of your faith. 'K-Thanks-Bye." Yeah. Obviously one of the reasons I did not stick with my God after death. Not that He'd recall me if I stopped by again anyway.

But I paint an unfair image of Cosmos. She is unusual, even amongst The Gods, yet not unlike me. As I have said, the words engraved on the Gates to Nebula Sacris, the Sacred Realm where The Gods meet, where the Choir of Elohim, Highest Choir in Heaven, of Gods Who are the Gods of Gods, read: "A Trillion Stars a God." What that essentially means is that, in all of Eternity, in all it's distant planes and regions, every God or Goddess may have his or her own domain, and since Eternity goes on, quite literally, forever, Gods who wed need never worry about their realm being smaller than others.

Cosmos is unusual, then, because in all of Eternity, she has not a single star. She has no home, no permanent place of rest. Her closest relationship, aside from with The Sire, is with Lord Chaos, and interestingly, despite their continued vows of eternal war, I do wonder whether there are some feelings born of propinquity or not. Alone with each other forever, not but mere men between them, I cannot say that Cosmos and Chaos do not feel more than simply hate for each other. In fact, were I a God, I would dare to claim they loved one another just as much as they hate each other, for neither will ever part from the other.

Ah, but I am straying from the task again. This next realm is odd, in that it's God has long since left it. The poor world is continuously bothered by The Cloud of Darkness, a sort of Goddess or Seraphim from The Void, that realm betwixt Heaven, Hell, and Life. But the world's God has long since been away. In his place he has left a man called Noah to guide the world. Noah was apparently a great Sage in his life, but when he died, he quickly was promoted to the Choir of Seraphim.

The letter The Messenger brings us is from Noah the Seraph, and we, members of lower Choirs, cannot contest the legitimacy of it. So long as Lady Cosmos has no problem with this letter, Seraph Noah will be the Acting God of these people.

Letter from Noah the Seraph to The Scholar, Official Selector for the Lady Cosmos:

_Cid._

I do not recognize titles. You may run from your world forever, Cid. Do so all you like. You cannot escape who you are. You cannot ask a God to repent of a sin he did not commit. Do not challenge Cosmos, Cid. You forget your place. Recall that The Prodigal challenged The Sire, and was cast into hell. Gerun challenged Faram and was cast out. Ultima challenged Gerun and was in turn cast out as well.

Angels who challenge their Gods fail. Cosmos is your Goddess so long as you Minister for her. Remember that. She can reach her hand forth, strip you over your wings, turn your halo from the light of stars to a wreath of flaming iron, and thrust you so far into Hell that you fall even beyond the flames and into that Outer Darkness known as the Void, reserved for the worst of Sinners.

I offer you only the following: Luneth, Arc, Refia, and Ingus. Four children who stood against The Cloud of Darkness, a woman from The Void. These four required aid from my pupils, but their hearts triumphed over a woman who made my own God worried sick.

Don't hurt yourself Cid. Heaven needs you. You think ill of your job, and you claim there is no meaning in the Wars of Gods, but I must disagree. Life is profoundly effected by what these people you choose for Cosmos will do. History is on the line, Cid. Maybe it doesn't matter to all of Heaven, but for these people you choose? This is their life on the line. Don't screw that up, Cid.

-Noah.

I am the Scholar.

I have long since abandoned the name "Cid." Cid was not a man I want to be associated with. He was weak and stupid. He spent his life slaving away, and his actions eventually came to naught. He believed in a God who did not believe in him. That Cid died, and when he did, his flesh set me free, and now I am out to live the life I wasted when I actually lived. Cid is dead.

And The Scholar lives.

That said, I am pleased with the four candidates Noah has sent us. The dockets aren't particularly thick, which is good, but the four come with a great credit to their record: The driving back of a Goddess from The Void. The Void, a realm which The Gods confine the greatest of Sinners to, a realm which contains only Angels who have sinned such sins against their Gods that no man can name them. To drive back a being from the Void with naught but a push from others- that is a true accomplishment.

This is going to be an interesting slot to fill. With the Warrior of Light we sought to make a leader, a hero for even heroes to rally around, and I believe we have that. He is humble, and not too bright, but not incompetent. With Firion we needed a man who could fill the Warrior's shoes. We found such a man- a ferocious warrior who was not content to kill his foe, but only laid down his sword when his enemy's soul was broken.

Now we need a man to take orders and follow them. He must be a leader, of course, but we really need a man who knows how to take orders and execute them. The previous two selections are excellent men at leading others, at inspiring, at following through, but we need a man who will give orders and take them. Too many super stars and the team loses synergy.

The Chronicler has picked up Refia's. The Wanderer has taken Luneth's. The Engineer has picked up Ingus, which leaves me with the young man called Arc, from a little town called Ur, raised by a man named Topapa . .

Name: Arc.  
Sex: Male  
Age: 15  
Species: Hume.

Arc is not living up to the hype I just gave him. According to this, the young man, despite being larger and older than other children in town, was frequently beaten up by the other children. That's not a good start. Especially given that this kid was supposed to have gone toe-to-toe with some seriously messed up things. Namely a man who couldn't get over the fact that he was going to die and a woman who really just doesn't like things that exist.

Ah, well, I guess he does improve. According to the docket, Arc did quite an amount of growing up on that adventure. He grew in physical and magical might by a great deal before his show-down with Xande and the Cloud of Darkness. When he eventually became an Onion Knight, the highest rank in his world, Arc was a force worth fearing. In fact, an entire nation owes it's freedom to his will. Ah, but there's our keyword again.

Arc was a man of determination and will. Yet he was also an individual desperately seeking to BE an individual. As such, I cannot believe it likely that he would take orders consistently. Sure, he would at first, but Arc might eventually snap under a constant stream of orders. Ah, but I'll save that for later.

Arc may have been romantically involved with the only female Onion Knight, Refia, but it's hard to say. Evidence of such is scant. Then again, evidence on the whole is scant. What is the deal with Gods and not keeping detailed records of some people's lives? I understand these people aren't dead yet, but still.

In any case, I am going to put Arc to the others, but his scores will have to be held off on for a tad while longer. I need a minute to think. I don't believe we'll be picking this individual, but I am rather wanting for a moment's rest.

Team Work: 4/10. Arc was friends with his fellow Onion Knights, but he knew them fairly well, and none of them pushed him too hard. If the Warrior of Light does not push Arc too hard, Firion most certainly would. Who knows what other men we'll choose who might push him over the edge? Arc was a good person, I don't doubt, and a team player, but he'd be outside of his comfort zone receiving a steady stream of commands and then suddenly having to give them.

Lethality: 4/10. A powerful young man, no doubt, an established warrior in his own world, Arc was still very young, and was never called upon to kill normal people. Though the Cloud of Darkness is far from a normal person, what would the poor lad do confronting, say, Jecht or Sephiroth? How would he handle that? True, his memories of this conflict can be redacted, but I cannot believe that he would like standing against people who looked like, well, normal human beings. Sure, those two aren't normal, but they could easily pass for simple people on his world. I don't think Arc could kill another human being unless pressed too hard, and if he was pressed that hard, well, I don't know that he'd bother to care who he was killing.

Faith: 4/10. Arc comes from a world with a lousy God. Yes, he'd fight for the Lady Cosmos, but happily? No. Of his companions, Arc was the brightest. It would not take him very long to put together enough of this war's puzzle to realize he was being used, and once he knew that, it's doubtful he would feel compelled to fight the Cloud of Darkness and her comrades. And I cannot blame him. Let's also consider that part of his last quest involved destroying the Dark Crystals. Armed with the truth, Arc could become a threat quickly.

Opposition: 4/10. The Onion Knights were somewhat destined to challenge the Dark Cloud from the beginning. She having already been rebuffed by the Dark Warriors ages before. Beyond this, his reasons for striking her down were actually fairly selfish. Yes, he had friends and family he wanted to protect, but Arc was incredibly interested in himself. In growing as a person. He's already beaten the Cloud of Darkness once, and knows he is her better. To that end, what need would he feel to fight her again? She might challenge the validity of his history, but unlike the Lady, Arc would not give the Cloud the satisfaction of a fight.

Unfortunately, that's not a good thing.

I have passed Arc along. I have heard a little bit of discussion thus far. Apparently, the young man named Luneth is very impressive. I withhold my judgment until I actually read his docket. I have let this team hype champions before, and on occasion Gods have suffered defeats because of it. I do not wish for this to happen now. Whatever happens, I intend for Cosmos' histories to be upheld. I will go out on a perfect record, nothing else is acceptable.

Name: Refia  
Sex: Female  
Age: 16  
Species: Hume

Refia is the only female Onion Knight. An attractive young lady, Refia would have been the most popular girl in her hometown, had her personality not been so fiery. For the daughter of a black-smith, Refia was an exceptionally cleanly person, though she was hardly bothered by grime and grit. Her knowledge of weaponry made her a valuable asset to the team, saving them precious gil along their journey.

I would, of course, like to pause to ask this question: what kind of planet knowingly charges it's heroes money?

Along the way, Refia met a young Ancient named Desch. Desch was in love with a girl in a nearby town. Refia, learning that Desch had abandoned this girl, came down on him harshly. That was the type of person she was. If someone was trying to do something stupid or wrong, Refia let them know it. She was unafraid and unashamed to denounce the failings of others around her. She wasn't proud, she just didn't believe that "I'm only human" was a good excuse for failure. Failure was failure, and when you failed, you didn't coddle yourself by claiming humanity, you vowed to get it next time.

Is it any wonder then that, despite having her body broken upon the hands of a woman whom even the Gods seldom duel, she rose to her feet and fought back? This is, of course, only the side of Refia the warrior. There are, as some know, always at least three sides to any woman: The warrior, the lover, and the mother. Refia the lover was not exactly developed yet, she still being so young.

But Refia the mother, archaic and sexist as the term might be, was present on this journey. Refia cared deeply for her comrades, and was sensitive to their tempers, insensitive as she acted at times. She was moved profoundly by the sacrifices of Doga and Unei, and was most loved of the Onion Knights by the Moogles.

Team Work: 5/10. Refia could be a bit off-putting. She got along well with those she liked, but when she deemed someone unlikable, that person had a hard time getting along with her. Sadly, I do not expect that Refia would be able to get along with every champion we choose. She might like the Warrior, and she might even like Firion. But there are harder souls yet to sift, and I do not think such persons would escape her scrutiny.

Lethality: 4/10. Much like Arc, Refia did not ever have to slay another person, especially not one who was or seemed morally grey. If she were to be cornered by Kuja and his maddening turns of phrase, she might not have the strength of heart to strike him down. Undoubtedly, when confronted with the insanity of, say, Kefka, Refia would just write him off as a fool, draw the line between good and evil, and know where to stand.

But anyone who knows Kefka knows he is evil. People like Golbez and Kuja are a little harder to draw black and white on. Refia might be good at drawing those lines, but she is not good at killing people. Monsters like Kefka are one thing, but people, that's another.

Faith:8/10. Refia lives in a world that is simpler than grey. She despises such terms, and as such, would serve Cosmos fairly well, even if she knew what was going on. Cosmos is good, and Chaos is bad. For her, that would be it. This is one situation in which she would do well.

Opposition: 4/10. Refia has naught but destiny and her family and friends making her enemies with the Cloud of Darkness. She obviously would not stand by and let Cloud end her home, but at the same time, she could only be pushed so far to stop her. Which is saying something, since this girl was beaten by the Cloud, got up, and stopped her. Refia is not a quitter, but there's only so much drive and reason to want to win this fight.

I've been handed the "Golden Boy." Luneth. The rest of the team seems rather pleased with this boy. I shall, of course, see about that. I hope to agree with them, because otherwise I will have to reason heavily against this Luneth. Not that I am worried. I have never been forced to select a champion I did not want. I do not expect this time shall be any different.

Name: Luneth  
Sex: Male  
Age: 17  
Species: Hume

Well, I cannot say I'm impressed. Luneth was the Onion Knight leader, a young man who lead his fellows to victory over the Cloud of Darkness. He was, according to the docket, attracted to the Water Maiden Aria, though her premature death ended any and all hope of this relationship a long time before it could bloom.

Beyond that, there is little that truly separates Luneth from the pack. He was impetuous, mischievous, and a tad bit foolhardy. A good person, but lacking in any real experience prior to his quest. What's worse is that this young man did not take orders with ease. He gave them on occasion, but that really wasn't Luneth's leadership style. A sort of unspoken bond amongst his team allowed them to play to their strengths without a great deal of directing, though the others turned to him because he brought out the best in them.

That's all well and good, but this young man does not really fit the bill we want. I am not at all certain I see why the team favors him so much. He appears to simply be another youth who would suffer great pain when asked to kill another human being. I see nothing about this young man which really separates him from the previous two Onion Knights, save that, according to the docket, Luneth is a very brave person, willing to jump into battle to defend the people he loves.

Good for him, I suppose. For the Lady Cosmos? He's alright, but hardly the most astounding individual she could hope to recruit.

Team Work: 5/10- Luneth was a cocky young man, and while he may have grown since, his passionate way of doing business put him at odds with his team mates on several occasions. Especially, the docket claims, the young man named Ingus. However, Luneth's teammates, including Ingus, spoke highly of him after their journey's end. He was described as bringing out the best in others, courageous, and a wellspring of hope. Could such hope balance out his trouble-making ways?

Lethality: 5/10- Luneth, like his companions, was never called upon to kill another human being. Especially not one who was grey in goal. However, despite this, he also did not show much sympathy at the passing of the man known as Goldor (a man gifted with a Crystal of Gold, a rare thing, even amongst Crystals), and he DID stand against Xande and the Cloud of Darkness.

Faith: 6/10- Luneth is not likely to discover the truth of this war on his own, but if guided, there could be consequences. However, such a catastrophe can be averted by reminding him that his friends' lives are on the line. Not much, really, especially since such a fact is listed for Refia and Arc, but with Luneth the point is underscored. Friendship comes before self here. To that end, Luneth would fight for Cosmos even if he did not want to.

Opposition: 6/10- Of all the Onion Knights thus far, Luneth's drive to fight the Cloud of Darkness has been the greatest. Raised on legends of her last attack by Topapa, Luneth believed her only a thing of Nightmares. When finding such horrors so close to reality, the young man was left with but on choice: to take and defeat that which he had been raised his entire life to fight: Nightmares.

The team eagerly awaits my approval. I can see they have all stopped reading to see my reaction to this Luneth character. I hate to disappoint them, but my simply tossing the docket along the table is more than enough to let them know I don't like the kid. Well, no, that's not entirely fair. Luneth beats Refia and Arc, but he's still not very impressive.

The Engineer slams a fist on the table. "You must be kidding!" he roars. "The lad is perfect fer us! Do ye jes hate for the sake o' hatin', or do ye honestly have some kin' o' reason fer this?"

I smile softly. I've been asked the question before. Do I hate for the sake of hating? Possibly. Being a misanthropic angel is hardly something my family is proud of me for, but then, I haven't even seen my son or his children in a long time. Perhaps when this is done, I shall try and reconnect. I doubt it, though. The press from this Report will likely leave them loving me less than before.

"The kid's generic," I answer.

The Wanderer raises his brow. "This one? Are you kidding? Maybe you should read the docket again."

"No," I said, "He's generic. At least Arc was smart and Refia was witchy. What's Luneth got? He fights for his friends? That nets him no sympathy from me."

The team groans a collective groan. They turn and simply stare at me. "What?" I ask. "Hand me the last docket. Maybe Ingus will be promising."

"No." The Chronicler says. "You need to reread Luneth's docket."

"No I don't. We discussed this. We need someone who takes orders as well as he gives them. Luneth is a trouble maker and foolhardy. He fits the bill poorly."

"Luneth is the best choice," The Messenger says, breaking his usual silence. "Ingus works less well than Luneth."

"Then why won't you show me Ingus' docket?"

"Because, ye'll like him more than ye'll like Ingus."

"Then we'll go with Ingus."

"No, we shall go with Luneth. He is the better choice."

"I don't understand. I never like worse choices more."

A collective glare from the group disagrees powerfully with me. They exchange glances, then turn back to me again. The Chronicler speaks for them this time. "Luneth was the Onion Knight's leader. Ingus was not. We're meant to pick leaders, aren't we? Ingus was not the leader, Luneth was. End of story, right?"

"No. Some groups won't have clear leaders. We're picking the best of the best, not the group leaders. Unless Cosmos suddenly doesn't want to win this war?"

"Since when do you care? Luneth is best."

"Then hand me Ingus and prove it. Let me read his docket. Then I promise we can discuss this till Chaos' horns fall off."

The group frowns, yet they agree that, on the condition I accept to really listen to their argument, they'll hand over the docket. Exasperated, I agree. They hand me the docket and I crack it open.

Name: Ingus  
Sex: Male  
Age:18  
Species: Hume

I must say, my team knows me well. I can see why they'd say I like this kid. Ingus was a soldier from birth, or near enough to it. From childhood he was raised as a member of the royal guard, trained, not like some, for killing, but for defending the lives of others. As such he was absolutely used to receiving orders, and more to the point, giving them as well. What's more, his drive for independence was absolutely crushed flat.

The docket also makes mention of a Princess Sarah. And if these bits are true, that makes Ingus the perfect candidate for us. According to this, Sarah and Ingus were romantically involved. Their feelings, though reciprocated, could never be realized, as Sarah was betrothed to the only prince in all the lands. An attempt to unify their kingdoms, to raise an empire which would rule over the whole continent.

Yet Sarah did not love this foreign prince she had never met. She barely knew his name. What she did know was that she loved Ingus, the young lad who labored every day for her, whom she had had assigned to her personal detail, and though he could never say he loved her, she knew that he did.

Which means that, even if Ingus were to discover the truth about Cosmos and Chaos, he would not care. He would fight to uphold the history in which his beloved lived long before he even stomached the thought of a history written by Chaos and the Cloud of Darkness. He would not even try to change history for himself, to allow himself to be the prince of that other nation, for when he returned home, Ingus was a hero. And heroes are loved of the people, while Empires are not.

The score for Ingus is as follows:

Team Work: 5/10. Ingus was the perfect foil for Luneth. While Luneth was an extrovert, foolhardy, and allowed his emotions to get the best of him, Ingus was an introvert, calculating, never letting his emotions slip too far out of his grasp. He acknowledged Luneth as the leader, which I find odd, since the docket claims Ingus was much more fit for leading, but at the same time, Ingus did grow angry with Luneth on occasion, and when he did, it cost the team.

Lethality: 6/10. Ingus was raised to defend, rather than to kill, yet he was easily the most battle ready of all the Onion Knights. Though there was but one other kingdom on the Floating Continent, there were all manner of brigands against whom the Sasune Knights had to stand. He alone, of all the Onion Knights, is prepared to kill other human beings simply because he has been commanded to do so.

Faith: 6/10. Ingus can be forced to fight for the Lady Cosmos if the need be. How freely he would fight for her if he knew is irrelevant as well, since he would fight instead for his Princess.

Opposition: 5/10. Ingus, despite being more apt to slay other people, is less a foe for the Cloud of Darkness than Luneth, but only barely so. Luneth had been raised to fear such a nightmare all his life, yet also to fear nothing. That helped him along. Ingus, on the other hand, had been raised to forfeit his life, and would likely continue to throw himself against the Cloud at whatever cost until one of the two broke.

The debate is not, it so happens, going quite my way. Ingus fits the bill perfectly, yet the team continues to assert that this Luneth character is in some imaginary way superior. They try my patience. If The Messenger had not long ago sided with them, I would have ordered him to take my decision to The Lady.

"Would one of you just spit it out already? What, by the fires of Heaven, makes this boy so much better?"

"Ye really canne see it?"

"No!" I say, losing my temper and slamming my fist on the table. "If I could see it, would I argue so continuously against it?"

The team exchanges a glance, confirming that I would. I, in return, furrow my brows. I will win this, I always do. Their resistance keeps my logic sharp, and that is why I keep them with me. Who, I wonder, will take over when I leave? Will it be The Wanderer, with his idiosyncrasies and bizarre mannerisms? Will it be The Engineer, his great beard brustling furiously as the team turns against his views? Will it be The Chronicler, his long, sad face making the calls which decide fates and histories? Or perhaps The Messenger, his dark eyes prying open the mysteries of men's souls?

"Luneth brought out the best in his comrades. Isn't that enough?"

"No. We've got The Warrior of Light for that."

"What of this, then: Luneth is the only Onion Knight capable of confronting Chaos himself and standing a chance."

"What!? Where do you come up with this stuff? Luneth never had to kill anything other than a monster on his entire quest!"

"No, that's not so at all. Doga and Unei fell before Luneth, and so did the Cloud of Darkness."

"Those were team efforts."

"Ye Gods in Heaven! 'Tis like talkin' to a wall!"

"Luneth took tactical advice from Ingus, who was trained for combat, yes. But Luneth was the team's leader for a reason. He brought out the best in them-"

"Gods indeed. How many more times must you say that pathetic line before you all realize I don't care? It's "The Gift of the Goddess" all over again! One line does not justify a warrior's right to fight in this manner of conflict!"

"Luneth could play his team's strengths. But he could also act on his own. He wasn't the most strategic person on the team, but he worked well both alone and in a group. He was far more versatile than Ingus, Arc, or Refia, and on the journey he learned to take orders as well as give them."

I put my face in my hands and groan. I'm beginning to see their points. "Fine." I say, caving, "Fine. But I have a condition . . ."

The team stares at me like I have lost my mind (as if such a thing were possible in Heaven). Again they glance amongst themselves. I wish they wouldn't. Why can't they wait to deride me until we're done? Sometimes I don't appreciate their honesty to such degrees. Seriously.

"You've got to be kidding." The Chronicler says.

"No. That's my term."

"But that's insane!"

"It's not insane, it's underhanded."

"In case ye fergoat, we're angels. Angels don' do underhanded."

"Cosmos does underhanded."

"Cosmos is a Goddess. She gets to define where under and over are."

"She shouldn't."

"She does, though. What should not be and what are are two different things."

"Well this term is what is, or Luneth is only a should be."

The Wanderer glares. "You just can't accept defeat. You only want this as some kind of personal victory. Accept it, Scholar. You lost. Luneth will represent Cosmos from his world and fight the Cloud of Darkness."

"Yes, yes he will. But only if he is disguised."

"What is the point of this disguise! She's the Cloud of Darkness. He's naked in her empty eyes either way!"

"No, he's not. Cloud is a being from the Void. She's fallen farther than the would-be-Gods of Hell. Omnipotence and Omniscience are reserved only for they who do not Fall. They who do are nothing short of Seraphim with dynamite. We can and will fool her."

"Why this boy alone?"

"Cloud is not quite like the others. She's not even like Garland. Garland at least has Chaos' will to guide him. Cloud, on the other hand, is a black hole. She's an icy wild-fire. She wants only to destroy. Chaos has offered her that. Cloud is much, much worse than the others Garland has picked. Even people like Kefka, who held Godhood, and Jecht, who held a world in terror, are dwarfed by Cloud."

"Ah," The Wanderer says, "I believe I see where this is going."

The Chronicler turns to him. "What? This is ridiculous. She's essentially a Goddess. Her eyes will pierce any disguise we craft."

"But her eyes cannot pierce armor crafted by The Lady. If Cosmos shielded the face of Luneth behind The Scholar's amalgamation of all the Onion Knights, the Cloud of Darkness would not be able to tell which one he was."

"Then it's settled. Luneth will go, but he will go disguised as all his company, to fool the mind of a Goddess."

"You are a shrewd man, Scholar, to fight a Goddess so far! With you no is yes and yes is no, and the faces of men are fused together. But you are no shaman. You were hired to pick heroes, not make them. Keep that in mind."

"I endeavor only to offer dead children to the mouth of Lady Cosmos, that they might receive her breath of fire and uphold the facts of their lives."

"Enough with these fancy words," The Wanderer, known for his fancy words, declares, "We are angels, speaking one to another. Nobody here is praying to a God. We needn't observe formality."

"True," I say, "But what's a little fancy talk amongst Would-Be-Gods?"

"Careful now," chimes in The Messenger as he prepares to take our findings to Cosmos, "You're starting to sound like an Occuria."


	4. Chapter 4

Ah, the Occuria. Now there's a story most angels in my line of work know full well. The Occuria, angels like the rest of us, were beloved of the Gods of Ivalice. The lead among them, an Occuria named Gerun, attended a counsel called by Faram. A great counsel of Ivalice, all the souls of men, the angels, the unborn waiting to take flesh, all these he called together.

A war amongst the Gods had come to an end, and Faram had reaffirmed his role as the God of Ivalice, among trillions of other worlds, but had offered the other Gods the chance to remain with Ivalice, to watch it, to stay with that world they had so warred over, so long as he was their King. Such is the tale of Faram's assent to the Choir of Elohim, to being a God among even Gods. But I digress.

Faram called a counsel of his under-Gods, his angels, those men who were not yet angels, and those souls who were not yet born. All these things he called together to discuss the future of Ivalice, to discuss the means by which Ivalice would grow to be the brightest of all worlds.

At this counsel, two spirits stepped forth. Gerun, the Angel, and Kiltia, the unborn. Gerun cried to Faram "Let me take Ivalice, oh Father, and I shall build a world which shines brighter than all the stars in all the Heavens! Let me shape the wills of men to my will, and you shall see! Ivalice will be a diamond among pebbles."

Next came Kiltia, who, humble as he was, stated firmly, "All-Father. Send me to save Ivalice. If it be thy will, I shall give all Ivalice the chance to save itself from itself. Send me, and I shall show Ivalice the way, not force it. The Glory of the Heavens be Thine, All-Father."

And, being a God, Faram jumped at the chance to snag all the glory for himself. Gerun, pissed out of his mind, challenged Kiltia on the spot. He demanded to know how an unborn could possibly do better at saving a world than a spirit who had gotten his wings. Faram, not about to take nonsense from a Seraph after winning a war of Gods, gave Gerun two options: Get in line or get a new God.

Gerun, in wrath, chose to get a new God, namely himself. Rightly sick of the way some Gods (re: MOST GODS) treat angels, Gerun declared that Ascension was an unnecessary process, and that, right there, in the midst of that counsel, he had become a God. He turned to the assembly and demanded to know who would rather stay a thrall to a callous slave-master than become a God immediately.

When all they who would stand with Gerun had risen, Faram made his point clear: Becoming a God was hard, hard, hard work, and no one could simply declare themself a God and have done with it. He extended one Almighty hand and trapped Gerun and his closest allies within shells of Crystal, forever sealing them within, until they could find the power necessary to break free.

The tale of the Occuria is a caution to any angel who tires of his or her God. Gerun sought to step out of his place, only to find himself in a much, much worse one. Gerun went on to suffer the same pains Faram did, when Ultima, his favored Seraph, and one of the few whom had been close to Gerun yet not trapped within the Occurian Shell, turned on him. Gerun cast down the Seraph, and she became Queen of the Lucavi.

But I am not afraid to wind up like Gerun, nor The Prodigal, nor any of the myriad angels who challenged their Gods and fell. I am not challenging Cosmos. I am doing exactly what I was invited to do. And when that is done, I shall make known what I have done to the whole of Heaven. I do not declare myself now a God, nor aspire to steal the throne of others. I simply wish to inform my fellow angel that there is War, even in Heaven, and that I don't think well of that.

The Messenger has returned. He has apparently seen the great field where our Champions and Chaos' will do battle. He does not sound impressed. Mostly it sounds like a lot of boulders in an empty space. Which means it is, of course, The Battle Ground, that same battle field where Gods are often wont to drop their champions to fight. There was once a building there, suspended in air, but a God, seeing this, cast down the building, declaring that the structure was a hazard waiting to happen, and that it was better it be destroyed now than in a war.

The Messenger carries just three dockets. This is pleasing. I would rather not sift through a great minefield of persons again. Three is the most I ever enjoy deciding upon. He delivers to me a folded sheet of paper. This is of course the letter Cosmos received from this world's God, which I must now read to confirm that we may do what we please here.

_Cosmos,_

When I agreed to let you into one of my worlds to wage your war with Chaos, it was because I had seen that very first war you two waged, and I believed your war would not greatly alter all that I had labored for. At the time, it seemed to go well. The two of you resolved the problem with Zemus, and in fact the general problem with all the Lunarians as a whole. Their race, one of the most technologically advanced in my domains, would have awoken and conquered all others, rather than the way I desired for things to go.

When I agreed to let you in, I did not think you and Chaos were going to rip my history into tiny pieces. Today one of my angels informed me that my history was on the line because of my involvement in that war. I understand that The Highest cursed you both to forever war as punishment for what you did, but I do not appreciate my own person being trapped in that very war. I am an extremely busy God, Cosmos, and I cannot be troubled to redo a section of history personally.

Therefore, I allow you the choice of the following champions on the understanding that I am not dragged by my tail into another one of your wars. I sincerely doubt that I won't be, your clauses bearing the weight of The Highest, but I fervently do not wish to have to redo that same section of history multiple times; linear or not, Time has never been something I've enjoyed messing with.

You may choose one of the following: Cecil Harvey, son of Klu Ya (you must, unfortunately, take the younger Cecil, taking his older self out of time is inadvisable), Kain Highwind, Dragon Knight, and a dear friend of mine: Rydia of Mist. These three are yours to choose from. But decide wisely, for I shall personally seek you out should you fail to stop Chaos.

-Bahamut

It suddenly dawns on me: as irrelevant as this conflict between Chaos and Cosmos is to them, and to many others in all the eternal expanses of the Heavens, the consequences, should Chaos win, even once, are so sweeping and drastic that they can effect and undo the works of other Gods themselves. And ultimately, the responsibility for what happens to these trillions of souls across the whole of Creation falls directly onto my shoulders and into my hands.

To be sure, I could blame Cosmos, for taking me into her Ministry, but I applied for such a position. I could blame the champions, for failing to meet expectations, but it would be my fault for sending them there. I could blame the Blameless, The Highest, that Throne Which Sits Above All, for cursing Cosmos and Chaos to fight for eternity, but to blame the blameless is to forfeit one's wings. No, I shall take responsibility for this.

But I make known that still this is wrong. What did Chaos and Cosmos do, to cause this curse? How could whatever crime they committed be so great that it should jeopardize lives upon lives upon lives? Ages of Time are at stake, pivotal turning points with dire consequences for Eternity itself. And why?

But here I sit, wrapped in myself, when across the room all eyes have turned to The Engineer. I look up from the letter at him, to see his eyes have covered with mist. This has become personal for him. I know without asking that this world is his. Bahamut is his God, and these people, this Cecil, Kain, and Rydia, these names are known to him. And as I see that bearded man, so often so fiery, so proud and gruff, hover moments from tears, I myself cannot resist feeling a tad choked.

"Cid," I say, breaking standing courtesy. He is not Cid, not here. He is supposed to be The Engineer. Names are left outside. We choose these titles that we might not suffer reproach for our decisions. "Cid, what are you thinking about?"

The Engineer looks at me, doing his best to school his voice. "Me daughter, sir. Me family. I cannae make an impairshal decision here. I am too close to it. I have nae seen me family in some time, travellin' with ye. Their very souls are at stake. Me daughter is nae even an angel yet sir. How does a man take his family's salvation intae his oon han's an then turn it o'er to another?"

I lay the letter down gently. "Cid, you know who Chaos has chosen to represent him from your home, don't you?"

"I do. Golbez. Er, Ceodore, rather. But it dinnae make sense! When las' I saw 'im, 'e was a good man."

"It's not impossible that he still is, Cid. Who can say why he agreed to aid Chaos? Cid. You are close to the heart of this. You fought Golbez. Who do you suggest we send to fight him?"

"I cannae say."

"Then we will consider them all, and while we do, you remember your friends, and name the one you trust your family to." I turn to the others and say, "You won't here this from me often, but one of our own is at stake here. Chances are others among you will be at stake before this is over. We all may be at stake. I encourage you to pray to whichever God you might that we make it through this thing."

As the team begins to bow their heads for their moment of silence, I add, "One last thing-- We _will_ make it through this."

Name: Rydia of the Mist.  
Age: 7  
Sex: Female  
Species: Summoner (Hornless)

An interesting choice, if ever one was made. Rydia of the Mist is a Summoner. More noteworthy than that is that technically, she is a mere seven years of age. Physically and emotionally, that's something else, but chronologically, the dossier claims she's a mere 7 years of age.

Rydia, as a Summoner, was one of the more powerful members of The Engineer's company, her ability to call upon Eidolons in battle made her a fearsome force to be reckoned with, especially in the later stages of their adventure, when she could call upon Bahamut Himself to aide her.

Unfortunately, little is really present to determine a relationship between Rydia and Golbez. Every trap and snare laid by Golbez seemed to go off and catch someone else. We shall attribute this, therefore, to a great amount of luck on Rydia's part. I do this, not to offend The Engineer, but because he and I both know it would be offensive to score it any other way.

A summoner in this battle could prove incredibly useful. To say the least, her power to call upon Eidolons would tip the sheer number of combatants in our favor. Mateus and Sephiroth at the very least, would not long stand before the blade of Odin, nor the brine of Leviathan, nor even the flames of Bahamut.

But other foes, such as Kuja and Ultimecia, have experience with Summons. I fear they would not be stopped so swiftly as others. And there are, of course, extenuating circumstances in this situation.

Any spirit in any Heaven at any point in their progression may apply to become a Summon. The processes for becoming Summons are varied throughout the Heavens. Nevertheless, any living thing, animal, vegetable, sentient, any living thing can apply to become a Summon. HOWEVER, once approved to BE a Summon, there are only 3 routes available. 1) Stay in one spot waiting for a Summoner to prove their worth to you. 2) Have an Eidolon made of you, that your image might be used as a Summon across the Heavens, allowing anyone the use of it, for good or ill. 3) Gods with Omnipresence may combine option one with option 2.

Unfortunately, in a War Between Gods, special forms require the actual Summoned to be on call for the War. The negotiations are nightmarish, to say the least, and every Summoned must be approved by both Gods. Essentially, if we choose Rydia, we are showing our hand to Chaos. The Liar might have been foolish enough to show his hand to me, but I shall not show my hand to him.

Rydia's Scores are as follows:

Team Work: 6/10. Rydia played well enough on her team, but she was never much of a leader. She did come to the rescue at least once, and inspired others at one point to achieve their potentials, yet the docket indicates that day-to-day leadership was not something Rydia was particularly involved in.

Faith: 4/10. Chances are, Rydia, like Bahamut, would be largely indifferent if she discovered what was going on. She would be concerned with preserving her history, and stopping Golbez, but beyond that? I cannot say. I don't think Rydia was a bad person, but I do worry that, if Rydia understood that this war is just one of many, and that Chaos and Cosmos will continue to tear up the Heavens when this is done, I honestly don't think she'd stand by and let that happen. Would you?

Lethality: 1/10. Without her Summons, Rydia was a mere black mage, and nothing so phenomenal there, either. Her command of the Dark Arts is significantly dwarfed by that of Golbez, whose magic was only undone by Rydia's summons.

Opposition: 1/10. The docket does not suggest there is any special reason for Rydia to desire to stop Golbez in particular. She would fight whoever- be they Zemus or The Maiden- yet to really draw out the potential of a champion, we need some major reason for them to fight each other. Rydia doesn't really have that.

Name: Kain Highwind  
Age: 21  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume

There is nothing quite like seeing the face of a man who does not believe in God wake up dead. Such, I am told, was the expression of Kain Highwind on his first day in Heaven. Highwind was an excellent warrior, a passionate man, and, I am told, a fierce foe. But Kain's vices outweighed his goods in many aspects.

Religion in The Engineer's world is as lax as The Choir of the Elohim will allow any God to get. As such, Kain was not raised with much faith, and though he would eventually become one of a very, very, very select few of that rank of Sacred Dragon Knights (along with the likes of Reis Dular), Kain never believed much in God. He wasn't exactly devoted to fighting against God all his days, as was, say, Ultima, and he certainly was not so crass nor low of wit as to deride the faith of others, in deed, he was impressed by the faith of some of his colleagues, but Kain nevertheless was certain that when he died, that would be the end of him.

Since then, I am not sure what he has done with his afterlife. The docket does not say. What worries me here though, is that, though Kain Highwind was indeed a powerful warrior, one of the mightiest people on his world, Kain's mind was not so strong as his flesh. Which is not, of course, to insinuate that the unbelieving are weaker of mind (nor will I ever support the claim that they are brighter. I, an unbeliever, know only too well how foolish my colleagues can be.).

The problem is this: Kain Highwind's greatest sin was alternatively love or lust, whichever you deem to call it. Because of his affections for Rosa Farrell, Kain Highwind was taken, not once, but twice by Golbez. Golbez' power over Kain was more or less absolute, so long as the promise of Rosa hung before him. That is not something we can here afford. If Golbez does not play with Kain's mind, surely Sephiroth or Ultimecia will feel the urge to do so. Gods know those people cannot keep their hands of other mens' brains.

Kain Highwind, the version we would be pulling from Time to fight this fight, has another problem. Though his failure to attract Rosa later enabled him to become a Sacred Dragon Knight and stop a terrible threat in his world, Young Kain would not know this, and would still desire Rosa's hand. If nothing else, he is very likely to desire to change history, not allow it to be. Indeed, a world ruled by Golbez and Zemus would not bother Kain, not if he had Rosa. Or, if rumors are true, and Golbez has joined Chaos, not to fight for his old master, but to stop that fight from ever happening, Kain could only be happier. If Cecil were to stay a peasant with Golbez, he could not meet Rosa and know her as intimately as Kain.

No, Kain Highwind seems a lethal mistake to make. But for The Engineer's sake, I shall score him anyway, just as I fudged the scores for Rydia to make them higher before passing her on.

Team Work: 5/10. Kain Highwind betrayed his team twice. Even before that he wasn't especially well known for working with Cecil. However, Kain's betrayals were both under duress, and it was never a fully willing choice. Kain was friends with Cecil and Rosa, and within the Lunar Depths, he even realized he would rather they both live happily than he have to slay Cecil for Rosa. Kain's military training is also an excellent point in his favor.

Faith: 5/10. Interestingly, I am of the opinion that Kain Highwind would be far more likely to fight for Cosmos if he DID understand what was going on around him. Were Kain to realize the complexity and ruthless simplicity of the situation, he would be less likely to aid in the fight against history and more likely to seek to do as he'd been asked. Faced with the truth that this war will not cease the battles between Chaos and Cosmos, and only guarantee history's preservation for the time being, and the knowledge that he was already dead, and that this conflict would have a bearing on the state of his soul afterwards, Kain would fight to preserve his salvation sooner than he would to serve Chaos, and I find it doubtful that he would choose some neutral stance.

Lethality: 6/10. Kain was a Dragon Knight, and one of the mightiest warriors in The Engineer's company. His ability to fight in the air was unmatched. While the power to make great jumps will hardly be uncommon in The Battle Field, Kain's aerial combat was something else again. He could move as an actual beast of the skies, and change directions in the air without having to push off an object. Against most foes, this would be a great advantage, especially those who are apt to show off their power to fly. For all his heavy armor, Kain was an incredibly agile opponent in the sky.

Opposition: 7/10. Kain's connection to Golbez was fairly strong. The two were both puppets, and yet at the same time, they both sought to manipulate. Not so different from one another, Kain and Golbez were, though Kain's willingness to be manipulated to Golbez is much more apparent than Golbez' willingness to allow Zemus to use him.

The question, really, is whether that's to Kain's advantage or not. Freed from Zemus' claws, Golbez might claim he was the better man than Kain, and it would not be an impossibly great stretch of the truth. Kain's doubts might harm him, but then again, his loyalty to Cecil outshines Golbez' own.

And speaking of Cecil Harvey . . .

Name: Cecil Harvey  
Age: 20  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume/Lunarian Half-Breed.

Lax as religion is on The Blue Planet, there still is Sin. Sin, regardless of religion, is almost universal. Murder, for instance, is as frowned upon in Spira as it is in Vana D'iel or Ivalice. And if ever there was a sinner in all the worlds, that man was Cecil Harvey.

Prior to his fateful mission to Mist, Cecil's life was not an extraordinarily happy one. A Dark Knight, Cecil was trained to use his sword, not for the defense of his nation, but specifically for the killing of other people. This was a harrowing thing for a young man to learn. While other boys were being taught by their masters how to forge iron for armor, or to raise homes, or the husbandry of animals or the lore of potions, young Cecil was being taught that morning to slit men's throats from a distance with his blade.

The King of Baron, holding the Airship fleet designed for protection against a possible Lunarian Invasion by Klu Ya and built by Cid, declared that the nations of the world: Troia, Fabuul, Mysidia, Damcyan, and Eblan must yield their Crystals to Baron or their holding of vast and terrible powers would be seen as an act of war.

Needless to say, no nation was willing to yield it's only protection against Baron's mighty Air Force. So it was that Harvey, at that young age, was dispatched around the world to start collecting Crystals.

Now the constant killing had taken a tax on Cecil's soul. Though young, he sought out the two base comforts many men of the sword seek: booze and sex. He found these things in the Baronian Pub, and in a Miss Rosa Farrel. Cecil loved Rosa, such a thing should not be debated, but what is worth pointing out is that a White Mage and a Dark Knight a good couple do not make.

Rosa, consistently worried for her lover's sake, became an extra weight on Cecil's soul. He loved her, thought the world of her, but conversely thought very little of himself. At once resenting her purity and wishing he could deserve her, Cecil turned to lower classes of women. Later on in history men would believe it was perhaps because of an increased drive caused by his Lunarian blood (something that has been debated forever, given even the Lunarians had forgotten their culture's views on the subject), but whatever the case, Cecil Harvey drank more than he ought to, and was sleeping with multiple women.

I say these things not to tear down the man, but to provide a greater distance between who he was and who he became. On the Blue Planet, the word Golbez was for a long time synonymous with the boogey man, and to the elders, with hatred and fear. Yet for a time it was the name Cecil Harvey, not Lord Golbez, which struck fear into men's hearts. Hated the world over was The Dark Knight. After his appearance in Mysidia, there were people in that normally quiet nation who were clamoring to kill him.

But, as fate would have it, Cecil made a change for the Light. His power was not enough to stop Golbez as a Dark Knight, and so, with the guidance of a few forgiving Mysidians, Cecil began his ascent to the peak of Mt. Ordeals.

Redemption is the name of Cecil Harvey's story. The world could have bent before his blade; I have seen the futures in which Harvey obeys his king, and they all end the same: No one stops him. He conquers the world for his master, and ironically, Zemus uses Golbez to oppose Baron. Yet as the war comes to a head, Baron's Air Force against Zemus' Giant, the world watching in horror, Cecil Harvey is not present.

Most versions have him striking down first his friend, Kain, whom in these versions is Rosa's lover, and then the King of Baron himself. Cecil, now King of the mightiest nation in the world, challenges Golbez in a clash atop the Giant's Skull. Golbez, ever the weaker physically, is cast from atop the Giant, and Cecil, Dark King of Baron, takes the Giant and rules the world. Even when the Lunarians awake, seeing no reason left to spare humanity, none can stop him. Only at the end, when Bahamut himself intervenes does the Reign of Lord Cecil come to an end.

But this is not how things happened. There is a difference between what happens, and what could happen. Generally only Gods may see what could happen, and thus only Gods may interact across the timelines, while angels see only the one, though they may travel to any point in time on any world save prior to their birth on the world of their birth.

Cecil Harvey, forgiven even prior to his redemption, climbed Mt. Ordeals with a few mages. Upon it's peak he realized the truth of Knighthood; that a warrior ought never to draw his blade save it be to stand between the forces of death and destruction and that which cannot stand for itself. Sword or no, edges or not, all Knights must be shields, and all blades must be raised in defense, and never aggression.

And the rest, they say, is history. Cecil went on, as in all versions of his life, to strike down Golbez, though this time within the Giant, and not on his own. Following this he would stand within that Grand Lunarian Construct, the Savior Moon, and strike down Zemus, breaking even the hatred of Zemus upon his blade. Firion sought to destroy his foe's soul, not content with his physical death, just as Mateus, not content to die, had wagered his soul to stop Firion.

But Cecil, Cecil went another step further. He would not stand to have even emotional aspects of Zemus remain. And so he raised his blade, in defense of his own world, and maybe even in defense of his father's, and with it he slew Zemus' hatred, castrating any aspects of Zemus which might remain.

Team Work: 9/10. A hard decision to make, I am of the opinion that while Kain did betray Cecil twice, Cecil also won back his friend twice, and, seeing more of the positive in Kain than the potential for threat, Cecil welcomed him back each time. An experienced military commander, Cecil would be a huge asset to our champions, having fought wars both in the air and upon the ground. People from nations which had great reason to hate this Baronian Nobleman united beneath his standard and came together to stop Golbez. The Princes of Damcyan and Eblan, both victims of Baron, served with Cecil. The future king of Fabuul as well. Rydia of Mist, despite seeing her mother slain because of Cecil still befriended him. Such was Cecil- a man whom, even before his redemption, was so essentially good at heart that he could not stomach the death of the innocent.

Lethality: 8/10. Cecil Harvey was a trained killer. Yet upon becoming a Paladin he received some reservations toward the slaying of others. However, his foes, all incredibly monstrous (save perhaps Golbez and Jecht), will undoubtedly drive him to do battle with them. Cecil Harvey was a powerful warrior, and, as all timelines The Lady and Bahamut have provided for our viewing show, no matter the things which happened in between, Cecil Harvey would always become the King of the most powerful nation in the world. Even in circumstances where Zemus gains control of his mind, Cecil turns upon him, strikes him down, and rules the Lunarian Empire, which goes on to conquer worlds upon worlds in that instance. Though that is more technological than due to the might of Cecil. Nevertheless, Cecil's battle records speak highly of him.

Faith:9/10. Even should he learn what was happening around him, the truth about Chaos and Cosmos' war, Cecil would likely serve The Lady. He would serve her in every challenge he was forced to participate in. The reason for this is that, compared to the many, many ways in which Cecil might have gone wrong, his life turned out very good indeed. The many souls back home who could not fight to protect the Crystals for themselves would cry out to him and beg to be defended. But Cecil the Paladin was also righteous, and that righteousness leaves a window, however small, that he might rebel. Which is my segue into something I have avoided for some time now:

The Two Cecils.

Cosmos has demanded that, should we choose Cecil, we must take him as both a Dark Knight and Paladin. The reminder and guilt of his Dark Knight sins, coupled with the piety of being a Paladin, are apparently things she believes will hold him completely in line. I am told that I cannot refuse this. The docket makes it clear that, should we elect to choose Cecil, we must take this condition. Not something I want to do, but I shall speak to The Engineer first.

Opposition: 10/10. Cecil and Golbez are two sides of the same coin. Golbez chose in the end to leave the world of his mother's people in favor of his father's. Essentially, he could not face the sins he had committed for Zemus- whether he had meant to commit them or not. Cecil, however, had owned up to the many things he had done wrong. The one man chose to repent, the other chose to try and out run sin. These brothers oppose each other almost naturally. Golbez was a magic wielder, while Cecil followed the way of the sword. Cecil chose humanity, while Golbez chose the Lunarians. Golbez watched his father die, while Cecil was present for his mother's death. Everything about these men declares their opposition. Even had they grown together, they would forever have been entirely different people.


	5. Chapter 5

I am the Chronicler.

I am Second in Command of The Scholar's Champion Selecting Ministry, currently Ministering for The Lady, Goddess Cosmos of Order. My work often takes me away from my family, a fact I am not much pleased with, but one which I deal with, for my services aid the whole of Heaven. The preservation of a God's History is near to my heart, for upon my own world a great evil tried to challenge history for her own sake.

Oh, but I suppose I had better recap. I see the Scholar's "official" records leave us at the scoring of Cecil Harvey? Ah, ah, not a problem. I remember exactly what happened next. Oh, yes, we're a little past that now, but I'll fill you in on what is going on as quickly as I can. My, you don't want to miss what's going on now!

So The Scholar had just finished adding his scores to Cecil's docket, and we all turned to The Engineer for his personal opinion. Funny story about The Engineer: his name is Cid! Ah, but perhaps that's just funny as a joke between Cids? Oh, well, I'll get to that in a moment. Back on track then, eh?

The Engineer dried his eyes and said, "I've made me decision. Aye, we'll send Cecil."

The Scholar gave a grave look and answered, "Are you certain? You are aware of Cosmos' condition?"

"We shall accept the Goddess' proposal. Cecil's a stron' man. His heart bore worse in life. He'll stand this jus' the same. Sad, no doub', but he'll weather it."

"As you wish. We shall send Cecil."

So we sent the dockets, our decision, and all other materials back with The Messenger (Would you believe he's a Cid as well? Ah, but that's another story, ha!) and we sat and waited while The Scholar updated his own private record as well as the official one. Then The Messenger returned, bearing the dockets and a letter. Yet his face was pale. The mustache, normally bristling with energy, seemed to hang somewhat. He handed the files to The Scholar, who opened the letter.

The Scholar turned more and more angry as he read the letter. At last he tore the paper to shreds, stood, said, "I will not suffer this to pass!" and left the room. The Messenger ran after him, and to all of us it became clear: The Scholar had gone to see Cosmos, and The Messenger was bound to stop him.

The moment we were sure they both were gone, The Wanderer and I dived for for the shreds. Torn, ever last letter. Only one word survived The Scholar's anger, but it was all we needed to know what had made the man so furious.

_"Previa."_

"Previa?" I said, staring at the paper.

The Chronicler looked across the table at me and shrugged. "We're all Cids, whether he acknowledges it or not."

I frowned and looked at the paper. For the first time that day, I produced my shades and promptly set them on. The Scholar does not approve of them, thinks specs are for seein', not blindin', but ah, well, the guy doesn't understand style much. Some angels have flair, some don't. Even Seraphs, who can manifest six wings at once, are not automatically stylish.

I am The Wanderer. A curious name, I admit, one that puzzles my companions more often than not. Not hard to believe, either. They've read my docket, no doubt, as I have read there's. Among our numbers we have a Headmaster, an Airship mechanic, an inventor, a scholar, and of course, an Emperor. The single best looking Emperor in history, no less.

"Well," I say, running a hand through my hair, "What do we do now, gentlemen? Cid's run off to see The Goddess, and Cid went chasing on after him. Cid's still a little shaky from condemning his friend to a trial of soul, which leaves Cid talking with Cid about what all the little Cids in Cid-land should do now."

The Chronicler pulls out his glasses. In Heaven, no one _needs_ glasses, but for the sake of variety, angels may choose to wear them anyway. He pushes them up his nose and says, "Don't you think we perhaps ought to discuss what could have upset him so?"

"It's hardly difficult to imagine, is it? The Scholar's letter has come from his God. The Absent, as The Scholar calls him. His using the word Previa is enough to anger him. The Scholar has no love for That Lord, and has gone to complain to The Lady."

"But surely that can't be all?"

The Engineer pipes up. "The Messenger has lef' us the dokkets. I dinnae think we air men' tae idle."

"Indeed. I propose we get on with our jobs. The Scholar might come back soon, but if he does not, I doubt he will be well pleased to see us sitting so."

"So who did Cid leave us, hm?"

"Sez here we have Bairtz Klauser, Cara Baldesion, Faris Scherwiz, an' Galuf Baldesion."

I grab the docket marked Cara, open it, and promptly toss the docket behind me.

"Come now! Such disrespect for the angels who compiled that?"

"Believe me, Cid, had you seen that woman, you, too, would have done as I. I shall strip my wings from my soul 'ere we disgrace ourself with such a choice."

"What could possibly have been wrong with her?"

"My dear Cid, her head. Nowhere in the Battlefield is there space enough for such a head."

Name: Lord King Galuf Halm Baldesion  
Age: 60  
Species: Hume.  
Sex: Male

Ah, mmm. A King? Well, I must say that's one we haven't done yet today. I think? Hard to say. Oh, but how much am I supposed to natter on? Ought to just jump into the file, I suppose. Can't be too hard to do this. After all, I get up and do this every day, don't I? Funny, really. I mean, this is Heaven, and Eternity, yet you still have to travel and can't simply instantly be somewhere else unless you're a God.

The Scholar doesn't know this, but we're planning on putting a recommend in to the Choir of Elohim when we finish here. He thinks we're turning against him, and, oh, don't get us wrong, the man can be simply agitating at times, but we do love him, and we're requesting that The Gods consider making him a Seraph. Were we bolder angels, we'd demand he be Exalted to Godhood. It's sort of our secret hope. Sure, we all want to trade our halos, harps, and wings in for crowns and voices of thunder and all that, but we'd like to Minister for him, as we've oft felt we already do.

Oh, dear! There I go again, I suppose I should just get to work then? Galuf was not born to any princely estate. Indeed, when born his word was largely idyllic. Not a single problem. But as a young man, Galuf saw as Ex-Death (that's Chaos' champion), stepped forth and began to torch the largely unprepared world. The time became known as the Night, that absolute reign of Ex-Death.

Galuf, already a man with a wife and children of his own, set out across the face of his world on a quest to end The Night. He would not see his children grow as he himself had. Along the way he met Dorgan Klauser, Kelgar Vlondette, and Xesat Surgate. Together they declared themselves the Warriors of Dawn and chased Ex-Death across space to another world. There they sealed him, and three of those warriors returned to their home.

Things seemed to go well enough, and upon returning home, the three were made rulers of their peoples. Galuf lived a happy life, seeing his granddaughter born and growing, before he and his friends began to hear stirrings upon the Abandoned Continent- that place which Ex-Death had made his home.

So Galuf elected to return to the other world and check the seal. Along the way Galuf saw many things. He met three of the Warriors of Light- Bartz, son of Dorgan, and the Princesses Faris and Lenna. Together, these three discovered that Ex-Death had a form which could be hunted and harmed- a tree of all things!

But the battle in the Forest of Moore was a terrible one. The docket says that, even when his energy had been stripped of him, and his body ravaged, Galuf rose and did battle alone. Ex-Death had outlived all the Warriors of Dawn, and once it had taken all four to stop him, but now, this one man alone drove Ex-Death back.

The battle would claim Galuf's life, but his love for his friends extended beyond. When Ex-Death slung the full force of the Void (yes, the very same in which the Cloud of Darkness dwells) at The Light Warriors, Galuf and his comrades forced it back.

We thus score this King as follows:

Team Work: 10/10. Galuf worked on two separate teams, and never once encounter a single hitch getting along with these groups. He was who he was, and the teams accepted him for this. The man died for his team, as well, of course, which is a major plus in his benefit, too, no?

Lethality: 5/10. Unfortunately for Galuf, he fought Ex-Death twice, and both times he failed to finish the job. Sad? Yes. Forgivable? Indeed. Utterly human? Absolutely. A quality we desire in our "L'Cie"? Not in the slightest.

Faith:2/10. No one from the Scholar's world much likes Gods. It's a taste bred by a world of inattention. My own world's God has fallen under fire before as well, for all that the Sorceresses have done, but he is still, on the whole, far more attentive than the one from The Scholar's home. Galuf can be counted on to play his part for only a limited length of time, and then quickly wonder what is really going on. After such a point, he might discover the truth and, well, from there there are problems . . .

Opposition: 7/10. Galuf fought Ex-Death no less than two times, and, even after his own death, was not content to leave the work to others. He risked his soul to storm the very heart of the Void and save his friends. His desire to see Ex-Death undone is, in a word, powerful.

Name: Princess Sarisa Tycoon  
Alias: Captain Faris Scherwiz  
Age: 20  
Sex: The Fairer  
Species: Hume

There are only so many beautiful women in the whole of Creation (which is ironic, given that Creation goes on forever), and of these many, one was a Captain Faris Scherwiz. Sadly, of the rare beautiful women in the vastness of all things, so precious few understand that they truly are as rare as they are. A thousand laments should here be sung for this Faris, for of the few who knew they were beautiful, she was one, and knowing this, she hid her beauty anyway.

At birth, a disaster separated this lady from her family, and, rather than being raised in Tycoon, where wars would have been waged for her hand, Faris grew up the daughter of pirates and sea monsters. Likely it was a dirty, foul life. One can only imagine, if one dares.

This rose, raised among thorns, was perfectly gardened by Cosmos for the war against Chaos. Because of the lethargic nature of this world's God, Cosmos and Chaos worked much more freely during their war. By the time Faris joined the quest, she believed she could handle anything.

This was, however, not entirely true; the quest claimed the life of Faris' childhood pet. I have never yet owned a pet, but I am told the grief is excruciatingly potent. Wracked by such pains, Faris still marched on. The fires in her heart burned brightly, and when the time came to face Ex-Death, few among her party were as prepared to slay anything that stopped them as her.

Team Work: 2/10. Faris was the captain of a Pirate crew, and used to issuing rough and abrupt orders. Though in time she did soften, I find it doubtful she would mesh well with a trained soldier like Cecil, and at the same time, a free spirit like Luneth. These men would have to individually earn her respect, and while such things are possible, I do not find it optimal.

Faith: 1/10. She is from the same world as The Scholar. No one who comes from that world can be trusted to work for Cosmos. I do not even trust The Scholar, much as I may normally, for this is somehow a much, much more bitter thing than normal. No, no one from that world would feel any major drive if they discovered what was going on. The hope of saving history is a doubtful hold. Not because they have little drive to save the lives they knew, but because that is the way of their world. History is done. Ex-Death lost, and they would never believe he could win again.

Lethality: 3/10. A pirate, yes, and therefore a fierce and taught warrior. But Faris was a mere woman, and nothing more. Her body, supple, elegant, smooth, curved, flowing as the wind or as a river, could easily break when rammed against Ex-Death, who is hard, knotted, and gnarled, as the tree he is.

Opposition: 4/10: Faris hates Ex-Death, and that is about the best you can hope for. Nothing outstanding there. Hatred for her enemy, however, is a debatable plus. How long such hatred can sustain her, and if it could drive her to stop her foe before she discovered the truth one cannot say. Nevertheless, hatred is not enough, and it is not an outstanding quality.

The door is opened.

Through it I pass, flanked by The Messenger. My face is still hot, and my eyes are cold, oh so very cold. I have said my peace. I have been to see The Lady, to see The Gardener (for simplicity's sake, my "God"), and I have even been to The Sacred Nebula to file a complaint with The Highest Himself. I will not suffer such mockery, not even from Gods. To include a docket on myself and give me the highest of recommendations amongst persons even I know are far more qualified champions- no, such a thing I will not stand.

I see that the others have scored up Faris, and Galuf, and I see in the corner a docket tossed away. "Cara, I'm guessing?" I ask, eying The Wanderer as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Don't blame me," he says, "It is not my fault God gave her a skull too large for this quest. Had your world no prettier women?"

"No," I answer, "We were all angry, ugly, and misanthropic. Cara was as pretty as they came, since she wasn't born with a mustache and beard, unlike the rest of my people."

"What a pity," The Wanderer says, frowning.

"Pity is for the weak and living."

"Ah, many pardons, Scholar, but we did save one for you."

"Excellent." I say, taking the docket. "Ah, Bartz. On the one hand, he's the best choice, but on the other, he's got to be the worst."

"Worst?" The Messenger says, "Oh, the worst is yet to come."

Casting the same confused glance he always does when The Messenger gets prophetic, The Engineer asks, "Wha d'ye mean, Worst?"

"Well, it's simple, really. Bartz Klauser is a hero. A brave warrior and, oddly, a leader of women. But make no mistake: Bartz Klauser is an absolute idiot. An idiot with a heart of gold and a sword that would scare The Cloud of Darkness, but an idiot nonetheless."

Name: Bartz Klauser  
Age: 20  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume

As I have just said, Bartz Klauser was an idiot. Things which were readily plain to others were essentially mysteries to him. Never once did Bartz wonder why his village respected his father, despite them living far from the grand realms of Karnak, Walse, and Tycoon. No, to Bartz life was simple, and things which were not readily explained were simply not explained.

But Bartz was a good man, honest for the most part, kind, neither savage nor cruel, he was perfectly suited to the life of a wanderer, and for a time that did, indeed, seem to be his only lot in life. Yet this was not to be the case. As Ex-Death slowly began to worm his way to freedom, and ultimately toward oblivion, King Galuf, far off on his otherworldly throne, rallied some in his world to go back to the place where they had sealed Ex-Death and check on the seal.

And so when Meteors came crashing out of the sky, Bartz' life was forever changed. What followed was a quest which made for some strange bedfellows. A King and three Princesses traveled with him, and on the way, witnessing the very pillars of his world shattered, and finding strength in what was essentially the death of a binding force, Bartz began to change.

Nothing incredible or major, but small, tiny parts of him seemed to rub off, until eventually, when Ex-Death, at his power's peak, cast Bartz' home into the Void, the feelings this simple man could not describe came to a head. It would be years later in his life, just several after my death, when Bartz would finally come to grips with the fury that Ex-Death had unleashed.

A famous quote some philosophic angels like to spew to their disciples is Ex-Death's line to Galuf, "All the Hatred in the world cannot stop me." To many this is an absolute truth; beings who are so terrible they will choose Outer Darkness over the warmth and light of Hell can never be defeated with simply hatred. Arguments against what I say next have been, and can be made.

Bartz Klauser defeated Ex-Death with nothing less than pure, unending hatred. Though fire was Faris' element, Bartz stormed the Cleft of Dimensions, a place situated on the edge of that Void, and in anger rose against Ex-Death, against everything he stood for. Ex-Death struck back, casting Klauser and his companions into the Void, but from that Void they returned. And Bartz' sword rose again, and at the end of all things, Ex-Death fell, consumed by the force he had sought, transformed by it, and ultimately defeated by Bartz and his friends.

Without a doubt, Bartz is the only man from my world I would trust with this job. Though his faith, as my own, is hardly high, he is simpler than his comrades, less likely to devise the whole of Cosmos' and Chaos' war, and his intense hatred would drive him on. Thus I score him-

What was that noise?

"Did anyone else hear a crash?"

Lethality: X/10.- Bartz is an unusual warrior, in that his own strength is largely variant. While Luneth could change classes on the fly as well, Bartz' selection was . . . something else entirely. Luneth could be a Ninja, a Sage, but nothing so . . . unique as Bartz' access to Mimicry, Blue Magic, Alchemy, Swordspells and the what not. Unf- what was that?

"I'm not the only one hearing that, am I?"

"Can't be anything important," says The Chronicler, "But yes, I have made note."

"Alright. Just let me finish."

Faith: Bartz, simple as he is, is the least likely of my world's Warriors of Light to discover the true meaning behind this war, to see that more than history is at stake. Were he to- there it is again!

"Is it just me, or is it getting closer?"

"That," The Wanderer replies, "or it's growing louder."

"Maybe both?" The Engineer asks.

"It's only getting worse," The Messenger says.

Team Work: Bartz- ACK!

The doors explode around me, and in dashes a man in red, being chased by several angels wearing the Seal of Cosmos. Instantly, of course, we all recognize this man. His garish robes, six arms, various weapons, face paint. Oh, yes, we know exactly who this is.

"Gilgamesh" we groan as one.

"Cids!" Roars Gilgamesh as the angels struggle to pull him back, "Now is the time to shave your beards, ditch your specks, rip off your shirts, oil your pecs and become MEN!!!"

"What the-"

"ENOUGH!" he cries, leaping onto the table, sending all our papers flying everywhere. "No more hiding behind desks with pens, hiding your pens behind desks, or desking your pens in your hide! Linus, Charles, Schroeder! Snoopy and Pig Pen! Cast off your blankets of security! Who will join the famous World War I Flying Ace upon Sopwith Camel in his epic battle against the Red Baron!?!"

Cosmos' Seraphim enter the chamber, flanked by Cherubim with flaming swords. What once was a private chamber is now an arena for the most insane show in all of Heaven. The table collapses under the weight of Gilgamesh and his many blades. At this very moment a man in a green suit dashes in, flipping over the cherubs, kicking The Engineer in the back of the head and landing, face first, next to Gilgamesh.

He gets to his feet, strikes a pose, and shouts, again entirely too loud, "I am a the pretty sailor soldier! On behalf of the moon, I will right wrongs and triumph over evil, and that means you!" The man in green high fives- Oh Gods, of all things, a high five!- Gilgamesh, who then says:

"Nice one Enkidu, but don't you think it should go a little more like this?" I take it back, Gods, I take it back. He's singing: "Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight, never running from a real fight, he is the one called Enkidu Moon!"

"Oh, I think I know that song! He will never turn his back on a friend, He is always there to defend, He is the one on whom we can depend, he is the one called-"

At this point the walls explode, and, if nothing else, I am certain I have lost my mind. An octopus emerges from the wall and shouts "Sailor Ultros!" another hole reveals a shambling mass of robes "Sailor Gogo!" "Sailor Cactuar!" "Sailor Tonberry!"

"No way!" Gilgamesh shouts, "it goes like this!" And now, Gods, now they are dancing, and even the Seraphim have stopped trying to stop them. "With secret powers all so new to him he is the one named Enkidu Moon!"

"Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight, With pretty soldiers there to help fight, He is the named, he is the one named Enkidu Moon! He is the one named Enkidu Moon!"

"AWRIGHT. That was _SO_ **MANLY!!**" Gilgamesh exclaims.

"Yeah, but do we have to be Pretty Soldiers? It hardly inspires fear."

"NONSENSE! A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, over the hill and through the woods, under the sea, darling it's betta, down where it's wetta, at band camp I knew a guy who heard a guy tell his girlfriend all about this movie where they discussed a book that was all about this legend inspired by a true story a man once told his sick grand son in which someone said the famous words MAWWAGE! Pretty Soldiers are the manliest of all Light Warriors!"

"True that!" Enkidu says, "We are so cool!"

"But enough ridiculous and outdated pop culture references! It's time we fight with all the vigor and muster of the dead, minus the rotting! Oh Council of Cids! Gird your loins with the jock strap of The Highest and join us in our crusade! For it is almost time!!!"

. . . words cannot describe . . . the idiocy . . .

"What in the name of The Highest is the meaning of this!" I finally manage to roar over the voices of Gilgamesh and his companions as they trade witty remarks about whether it's pronounced Ah-dage or Uh duh jay. The moron brigade stops a moment and regards me.

"Imagine if you will the shape of a cheese wheel, and this cheese is eternity! HARK! I am the Cheese! But LO! The cheese stands alone. Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I am the stinky cheese man! But as the hard-boiled eggs that are my soul begin to ferment, I look inside myself and realize the truth: The cheese is never alone."

Several seraphim groan. The Engineer is still rubbing the back of his head, and The Messenger, oddly, looks rather serene. I am bothered by this, of course, but more so that he simply turns and leaves.

"Our worlds are in peril! Gods, the spirits of our worlds, can no longer stand the terrible destruction plaguing the Heavens! So send five magic rings to five special young people! When these five powers combine you can summon the greatest champion! Captain Gilgamesh! The POWAH is YOUARS!"

"YEAH!" the chorus sing, "EARTH! FIRE! WIND! WATER! HEART! GO PLANET! CAPTAIN GIL! HE'S A HERO! GONNA TAKE POLLUTION DOWN TO ZERO!"

"JUST STOP IT ALREADY! What are you doing here!?"

"We've come to warn you about the Four Fiends of the Earth!"

"What, you mean Chaos has sent elemental fiends after us?"

"Yes and no."

"Which is it?"

"Yes, their from Chaos, no they're not all four elements."

"I don't follow."

"You don't really need to, Brother Previa, we followed you!"


	6. Chapter 6

Of a sudden, several angels are tossed aside, and four men in brown suits enter what remains of the room. Demons. Earth elementals. We might have been prepared for them, had Gilgamesh not wasted our time.

"Lord Chaos has sent us to stop you, Brother Previa, from making a terrible decision. He has no further use for The Liar, you see, and would much rather The Scholar aide him in selecting a final champion."

"How did you get here?"

"We followed you, of course. The same way Gilgamesh got here. You left for the Sacred Nebula, and we followed you from there to here. Now please, say you won't come. We so wish to rip the wings from these Seraphim. It has been ever so long since we had a good war for our own."

"You must be Lich."

"I am, indeed, Lich," he says, his body becoming a skeleton, his suit a purple robe, tendrils of sickly yellow energy swarming about him. "Allow me to introduce my brothers to you: This is Scarmiglione,"

The demon to his right's face falls off even as his suit explodes in a mass of rotting muscles. His hair grows out and his eyes go white. The demon next to him sprouts a tail, and his skeleton, blood red, explodes from his flesh, reptilian in form.

"Flamerous Rex, of the Vile Four,"

The fourth demon, I notice, is in fact an emaciated woman. Her head lolls backward, and she eventually leans back the whole way, so that she stands upon her hands, As she does so, her suit falls off, leaving her naked, green, every bit as bony, and her tongue comes slithering out of her mouth.

"Echidna."

"Hey, Enkidu!" Gilgamesh says, turning to his companion, "what does the scouter say about his powar lebel?"

Enkidu clenches his fist and shouts, "It's over nine THOUSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND!!!"

Gilgamesh, Enkidu, Ultros, Gogo, Cactuar, and Tonberry rush the fiends, joined by The Seraphim and Cherubim. In the meantime, my companions and I stand by in sheer confusion. The Wanderer groans and says, "This happens every damn time. We haven't got time for this. Chaos knows that. It's all a ploy to slow us down."

"Yes, but The Messenger has prepared," I reply, "He has taken Bartz' name to Cosmos, and will bring us the next dockets. One war is not going to stop another."

I am The Messenger.

It is my duty to go between The Lady and The Scholar, and of the foreign angels in her castle, I am the only one permitted into her divine presence. I alone may stand before the exalted and not suffer a transfiguration. And yet I fear that I have.

Ere I served The Scholar, I was a man named Cid del Norte Marquez, unwed, alone, solitary as the island I lived upon all my days. Yet I have what some might call a grand daughter. Though she has two other grandfathers, I am also now a part of that family. That woman and her husband filled my final days with happiness.

But now, in the time beyond days, I have suffered some strange change. I can see ahead of where I am. Time is not linear, and yet it is. I am gifted or cursed with the power to see what might come- a sight normally given only to Prophets and Gods.

I call myself The Messenger for such was my role. When my granddaughter awoke, I delivered the message to her: that Kefka had slain our world, and it now was beginning to rot away. I can never forget, now seeing back with my power to see what might be, how things could have gone wrong. The damage I did to her was unforgivable, unpardonable, and I will not allow it to be washed out from my memory.

I am walking along the battlements now, away from The Lady, as seraphs and cherubs dash about. The Castle is under siege. Chaos has sent forth demons and fiends to delay our work. In a sense, The War we have been planning has finally begun. We are used to Gods trying to interfere with our work, but this is something so new.

I carry in my hands the dockets, of which there are three, and the sealed letter from Alexander. I know already who Chaos has chosen from Alexander's realms. Kefka. Who else could warrant a letter from my God? I dare not look, though, dare not see who has been sent to us.

Ah, and now I am surrounded. Four demons in red. Three men in red suits, and woman in a red dress suit.

"Well, hello, Brother Marquez," says the woman, "Why don't you just hand us those dockets and we'll be on our way, hmm?"

"I may have been fooled before," I answer, "but I am no fool. You aren't Kefka, madam, you aren't going to pull the wool over my eyes."

"Oh, what a pity," she says, unbuttoning her shirt, "but come, don't you prefer me to Kefka anyway?" She rips her shirt open to expose her breasts, but tears her skin at the same time. Her arms continue to rip, and then, as though someone is standing behind her, more arms emerge to aid in the rending of her clothing and skin. At last she leans forward and slithers out of her legs. "I am Kali Maliris of the Four Fiends of Fire, servant to Lord Chaos, and these are my brothers,"

One of the other demons lights a match and burns off his clothing, revealing a pale man in red, "Rubicante," The next grows two more heads as he falls down on all fours. His body burts, revealing a dog beneath, "Cerberus," and the last bloats until he pops, "and Dualhead Hydra."

"Fascinating," I reply, "If I am not mistaken, does not Cerberus hold Eidolon Status?"

"Yes," huffs one of his heads, "I am curious, how do you manage to aid Chaos and be an Eidolon?"

"Interesting development." huffs another head. "You should have chosen Rydia," says the third, "Summoned Monsters have been permitted access to this War."

"Well," I say, "I believe this is the part where I turn and run."

We've fled our chambers, leaving behind what little paper we can. Undoubtedly some small information about our decision will reach Chaos. Gilgamesh and his company continue to fight the earth fiends behind us. A pity, almost. Gilgamesh is entertaining, however foolish he might be.

We four are running down these halls now, seeking The Messenger. After that we will likely search for a room, barricade ourselves inside, and keep working. As you can tell, we are not unused to this. A God once set the tower we labored in on fire in an attempt to stop us. But we did not become the best by being deterred.

"This way fellows!" The Chronicler calls, making a sharp left. He pulls open a door and we run in, The Engineer tripping as he does so. Once safely inside we take a moment to catch our breaths. The Wanderer takes stock of our surroundings.

"Stairs," he says. Indeed there are. A long, terrible spiral, ascending into the shadows. It's unusual, really. Gods tend to keep their palaces well lit. It's possible, though, that Cosmos' palace is becoming a castle in defense, and the shadows are meant to trip up unwanted foes. Demons can see in the dark . . . but men on their way to becoming demons cannot. I shudder to think what Chaos has sent after us. "There is something in the air," The Wanderer says, "A feeling of dread, of importance."

"Nonsense," I say, "Chaos and Cosmos are fated to fight for Eternity. The Highest Himself has lain that fate upon them. This war is irrelevant. The victor is of no import. History's preservation is of no matter. If Cosmos loses, she can appeal, she can fight back. None of this matters."

"But ye cannae shake it . . ." The Engineer answers, "There be somethin' diffren this time. Somethin . . . wrong . . ."

"Don't be so superstitious. This war will not end without the authority of one greater than these two. There is no importance! These Gods are no different from any others we have ever ministered for."

"Oh, surely you don't believe that. Look around you, Scholar. We ourselves are tied up in this. Our homes are at stake. Yours, The Engineers, I have no doubt mine will be. It isn't even impossible that The Wanderer's is, despite Faram's powers."

"I am telling you! None of this is special! It's meaningless! There's NO POINT!"

"Oh . . . now that'sss jussst not fair," hisses a voice from behind me. Or is it all around? "This battle hasss great meaning for all of ussss. Don't asssssume that, becaussse you aren't fighting, otherssss don't care, Brother Previa."

A woman in a green dress suit emerges from the shadows. Ah, just what we were waiting for. More fiends. Someone out there is apparently not doing their job. Well, hmm. Can angels have Guardian Angels? I'll have to investigate that later . . .

Others emerge, another woman, and two men, one with a head band, the other with an eye patch.

"No need to introduce yourselves," I say, "We can take a guess."

"Oh, but introductionssss are part of the fun of being a Fiend . . ."

"Fiends of Wind," The Wanderer says, "Easily the least impressive of your rank."

"What did you say!" roars the other woman, her dress suit rending slight as she moves. It is apparently too small for her, but only just enough to accentuate the curves of her body. No, the tearing is something else.

"I'm afraid I must agree," says The Chronicler, "I've never read of a Wind Fiend who was as fearsome as their counterparts in other fields."

"Don't anger her," The Engineer says, "That's Barbariccia."

"So glad you remember," Barbariccia says, her shirt's buttons popping off, the skirt falling away, her hair whipping a tornado up to censure.

"Which makes you Tiamat," I say, pointing to the one with the lisp. "I've always wondered: how do you put on a hat?"

"And that makes the other two Pazuzu and Ahriman then? Pathetic. Chaos couldn't find anyone better?"

"Honestly," I add, rather enjoying the looks on these Fiends' faces, "What are you going to do, break wind over our heads?"

"Run if you can," Kali Maliris says, coiling to strike, "But know this, Brother Marquez: There are four of us, and one of you. Not every deer escapes the forest fire."

"True," I say, turning to run, "but I see no trees. A flame unfed will starve to death. My God feeds my soul. What does Chaos do for you?" and, with those words, I turn on my heels and sprint. These dockets must reach The Scholar. We must decide upon a champion to battle Kefka. And I will not, so long as I have wings and legs, be stopped from raising a blade against that madman.

Damn! Cerberus has caught up to me! Which way to go? Which way? Left? No, right! I have to make it, my legs are burning already, but I have to make it. God, oh my God, I am so out of shape! HURK! A stone . . . ow . . . Can't stay down, have to keep moving and BY THE MIGHTY CROWN OF ALEXANDER!! Kali's blade . . . she's right on top of me . . . can't look up . . . just roll, flip and YES! Right in the stomach!

I'm back on my feet now, but the Fire Fiends are all around, and the wall will soon be breached. The demons have Cosmos' palace besieged. Without aide, can we still win? Where is Cosmos? Why does she not defend her castle? Who in God's name is that?

A man in red armor. Silver hair, red ornaments within it. And that sword . . . it cannot be! Oh God, the guilt . . .

"Step away from the Cid," says the Warrior of Light, his shining sword brandished, "Return to your master, or face pain eternal."

"You?" Hisses Kali, "HA!"

"I am sorry," The Warrior says, "If you believe you know me. Let me assure you, madam, that I do not know you."

"Oh, of course," Rubicante says, "He can't remember."

"Run, Cid," says the Warrior, unperturbed by these vile four.

"You are-"

"My name is of no importance. I am a Seraph in the service of Lady Cosmos. In life I was her devoted Knight, in death, there is no difference. I will fight for my Goddess, now go! Ask no questions, This is a time for swords, not speeches. Now run!"

"How did you know I was a Cid?"

"Cosmos told us she had invited Cids to the Palace, I have never met you here before. Now please, Cid, run!"

And run I shall. I make my way away, not daring to see how the Warrior fares against the Fiends. As I dash into a tower, I cannot evade the fact that I have hurt the man who saved me. We have condemned him to fight another war with Chaos, and we will expose the truth to him. He does not remember this war against Chaos, that he himself ended it long ago . . . but when this all begins anew . . . Oh God, what have I done?

What right have I to do this? Am I not but a man? I have wings, a crown, a harp, I am a decorated angel, not the highest of choirs, to be sure, but still, I am a man. I am no God, to wield the souls of others. Oh God, I am trying to do the right thing, to preserve peace and safety, but how can I know what I am doing is right? This would not be the first time I had labored for what I believed was the greater good and instead created the greater evil.

Running. Running. Always running. All I'm good for, it seems, is running away. I'm no warrior. Cid Previa was an old man with a failing kidney by the time he even mattered to the world. Why should The Scholar prove any more powerful? Ah, well, at least running is healthy.

The Wind Fiends are chasing us up the stairs. If I remember correctly, this stair case leads to a large . . .

"The pool," I gasp.

"Damnation!" The Wanderer roars.

"Impossible! We'll be fine," The Chronicler says.

"Shut yer mouths and jes' keep runnin'!" The Engineer barks as Barbariccia's laughter grows. The world below and behind us is an infernal roar. A maelstrom of horror as the stairs, the bricks, the Palace itself is torn apart by these four. Incensed, the Wind Fiends are expending all their might to stop us.

We reach the pool chamber above. This is somewhere we are not normally allowed. It is the pool where Cosmos' attendants bathe. Recreational pools exist elsewhere for the normal Seraphs, Cherubim, unranked angels, and spirits not yet promoted to the choirs of angels. And, as we have guessed, a company waits for us in the pool.

Three demons in blue, and one female demon aside from them. Not a one says anything. The first merely bursts into tentacles, the second a turtle, the third rips his face off, revealing a skull of ice. The fourth screams and . . . Oh Gods, how does one describe the horror this child of heaven has become?

"Werr, herro, sho good of you to join ush, Shkarrer. I burreev you know what we are."

"Water Fiends?"

"Yesh. I am KRAKEN! The madnesh of the shea! Thish," he says, directing a tentacle toward the turtle, "Ish CAGNAZZO! Mightiesht of are number. Beshide him shtandsh ISHE GORREM! and farthesht from me ish SHYRRA! BUHORD HER TERROR!"

"If I may interject," The Chronicler says, "we've got company from downstairs as well."

The Wind Fiends arrive on the scene, and Tiamat wails in anger at the sight of Kraken. "Leave them to ussss!" she hisses, "We found them, we did, you shall not have them!!"

"BUREEV IT!" Kraken says, striking his stomach and puffing his cheek. Wait, do Octopi have stomachs or cheeks? "We found them, and we shall be taking the Shidsh."

"You certainly shall be taking the "shidsh,"" says Barbarricia, "but it'll be hard to do, I suppose. Can a piece of shid take a shid?"

"Watch your tongue, woman," Scylla cries, her horrible mouths shrieking the words in a round.

"If you don't mind my saying," The Wanderer says to me, "I almost miss Gilgamesh."

"Don't say that. He'll show up if you do."

"Did somebody ask for a miracle!?"

"Oh great, he's here."

"Behold! The glorious super soldier-"

"Gilgamesh! You just introduced yourself. WE DON'T CARE."

"GILGAMESH? Ha! Gilgamesh is a novice! I am the mighty swordsman, SIGFRIED!"

The sound of The Wanderer slapping his forehead is audible. Even the eight Fiends are stunned. Sigfried? Who the hell is Sigfried? He looks like a cheap Gilgamesh knock off to me, which is saying something, since Gilgamesh himself is some kind of cheap knock off of others. Seriously, who are these garish goofs?

"Shigfred," Kraken burbles, "Get back to the ship. The Shidsh are oursh."

"SSSSSILENCCCE!! THE SSSIDSSS ARE MINE!"

"Fools! I, the great Sigfried will capture them in the name of Chaos! Then the mightiest of swords shall be mine!"

As the villains argue, my companions and I manage to slip away. We climb the stairs as quickly as we can, for the villains have become aware of our absence. As we dash up the stairs we run into The Messenger, and the lot of us tumble out a doorway and out a window, landing unceremoniously on a ledge on the outer wall of the castle. Here we can see them: Chaos' legion. Only the Fiends seem to have made it in so far, which is excellent news for us. Between them, Gilgamesh, and Sigfried, I'd say we've filled our quota for cameos.

When at last I have managed to stop the spinning, I say "Well, there you are! Have you got the dockets?"

"I have." The Messenger says. "I was right, you know. Things did get worse."

"Predictably so. We'll survive."

"We always do, don't we fellows?" The Chronicler says, dusting off his shirt. "We really ought to write a book about the scrapes we've gotten out of. For a bunch of non-adventurers, we certainly do seem to have our fair share of adventure."

"So it would seem," The Wanderer says, "Let's get down to business. If Chaos invents a new element of Fiend to send after us, I'd like to have this off my mind. Although, I have to admit, there are a few who are easy on the eyes. That one . . . Valvalis, was it?"

"Barbarricia," The Engineer corrects, "horrible wind woman. She'll be a pain sooner than a blessin' to ye."

"Right, then," I interrupt. "Back to work then?"

_Letter from Lord Alexander, God Inheritor of the realms formerly belonging to Goddess, Doom, and Poltergeist, lawfully wrested from the hands of God Kefka, Spec. Magic, to Goddes Cosmos, Spec. Order, and to Council of Cids #33._

Cosmos;

I am protective of these worlds, as you are no doubt aware. I have a difficult job, as both an Eidolon and a God, I am a busy man. My worlds are oft harder to maintain than those of many others' you have visited. This is because there is no Magic in my worlds at all. What Kefka never realized is that, in becoming God of Magic, he became God of Magic of all the worlds previously maintained by the Dancing Triad (hereafter known as the Warring Triad).

But I am not writing you to tell you my sob story. I am writing because I have heard your war has found Kefka. How . . . irresponsible can you be? Of all the worlds you have warred on, how can you have stirred up Kefka? You . . . know who he is, don't you? This isn't Sephiroth or Yevon or Xande or Kuja we're talking about, Cosmos. This is Kefka. He is among the few mere men to rise to Godhood and circumvent the choirs of angels entirely.

This is Kefka, Cosmos. The only mortal in history to become the God of a world that still had a God. Kefka is . . . disturbing . . . His voice is horror and terror, his face, oh his face . . . Kefka is beyond description Cosmos. He is an evil worse than Chaos. And you . . . you have woken up what was left of him . . .

I do not forgive your sin, Cosmos. I never will. I leave, even now, to speak with the Choir of the Elohim, that you may be cast down, that your light may be darkened, that your crown be rent. But I shall give you my warriors. I will not watch Kefka loosed upon Heaven because of your idiocy and carelessness. I make now this Judgment: If ever a God has sinned, Cosmos, you are that God. Your sins endanger us all.

Were I The One Above All, He Who Is God of the Gods of Gods, I would see that you suffer nothing less than eternal damnation. The punishment cast upon you by The Highest is too lenient. Your crimes before, however terrible, are exceeded by this.

May your Exaltation turn to ash, your angels to demons, your light to darkness, your songs to shrieks, your love to hate. As you have condemned us all, Cosmos, so, now, do we condemn you.

"Kefka." I say to the others. "I take back what I have said. They've found Kefka."

. . . Kefka . . .

No matter who you are, no matter where you are from, chances are, if you are dead, you have heard of Kefka. And . . . your morality, ethics, beliefs, whatever, aside, chances are you either love the guy or you hate him. And even your personal feelings toward him, you cannot deny that finding and waking Kefka is a crime beyond description.

Before Kefka, no one thought it was possible to skip being an Angel and go straight to being a God, no one thought you could be a God in a realm where there were Gods already, and . . . before Kefka, no one believed you could kill a God. To this day investigations surrounding Kefka's rise and fall are conducted. No one knows how he was slain, and no one knows how he usurped the Dancing Triad. It had been so long since they had contacted the Sacred Nebula, and then . . . one day . . . one day Heaven received word from them, only, it was not them, it was some new God. Kefka had declared Godhood, and all of Heaven shook.

Alexander is known for his harsh judgments. He has been especially hard on the world from whence Kefka was born, doing his best to sift the souls of men there, to separate the good and evil, and it has been hard on him. But I do not disagree with his judgment of Cosmos. Waking Kefka is dangerous. He changed the rules of Heaven itself . . . and that is . . . something even The Highest is bothered by. To do something which the All-Knowing cannot fully understand . . .

So the choice comes to us to stop Kefka before he can grow too powerful again. This is why Chaos attacked- if we stall, Kefka may grow in might. So of these three we must decide, and we must decide quickly. So, let us see the three we have been sent:

Locke Cole, Celes Chere, and . . . . Terra Branford . . .

"They've sent us the Godslayer . . ."

Name: Locke Cole  
Age: 26  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume

Locke Cole was once a mere young man with an interest in things which were rare. Raised in the city-state of Kohlingen, north of the nation of Jidoor, Locke spent his youth exploring Kohlingen's wilderness for rare treasures from the War of the Magi. Some said he did this because he sought his parents, others claimed it was because he was vain, and felt he was better than others. Regardless, though, it was a fact that that which was rare was beautiful in his eyes.

One day this young man saw a woman named Rachel. There was something about her he immediately associated with rarity, and, because of this, she had to be his. The courtship was a kind, sentimental thing, of no grand significance in the scope of things. At the age of 18, Locke Cole and this Rachel became an item. Southward, young Celes Chere was being taught to use her blade and skills in magic, and young Terra Branford, at the age of 10, was leading Emperor Gestahl's troops to victory over the pathetic resistance of the city-state of Tzen.

As Celes earned her first kill, Locke shared his first kiss, and Terra, at the request of Kefka, torched a woman and child alive. Two years later, Celes' feats in the invasion of Miranda, words which reached as far as Doma, earned her the rank of Gestahlian General. Terra lead the occupation of Albrook, and Locke lead his lover in search of their latest treasure.

But things went poorly for Locke. The cave he and Rachel explored was dangerous, a bridge collapsed beneath him, and Rachel pushed him to safety, falling into harm. Her memory was taken, and Locke was blamed. He was forced from Kohlingen, and not long after, Gestahl's empire conquered Kohlingen. Rachel died in that attack, only then recalling her memories.

From that point on, Locke became obsessed with all things rare. He had heard Gestahl held a treasure which could turn back death, and Locke hungered for this. Gestahl had killed his love, and now, after he killed Gestahl, he'd use his treasure to save her life.

Life was harsh, cruel, and unforgiving. Locke found himself needing the aide of the Returners, and he offered himself to them. From there he became entangled in the life of the Godslayer. This woman, an agent of that Empire he so loathed, and her life was in his hands. Had Locke known that this woman's very existence had enabled the death of his love, he might have taken her life, and yet . . . whether it was his ignorance or his kindness . . . Locke saved her.

Such a man was Cole. Seeing a woman in peril, he could not stand by. Always he seemed to see her face, and so he endeavored always to save her. It would not be until Locke met Celes that his heart could move on . . . a bitter irony, that women of the Empire should soothe the pains the Empire caused.

Team Work: 7/10. Locke, while hardly a leader in any sense (Considering he was more supportive than inspiring) was a fairly good team player. Though he resented groups when first he joined the Returners, by the time he met Terra, Locke had learned well enough the importance of having friends and allies. He would have no problem serving alongside Bartz, Cecil, or the others.

Lethality: 6/10. Locke was a member of the team which struck down Kefka while Kefka stood as a God. The reason behind this, though, is beyond our understanding. Not only did Locke take part in the destroying of Kefka, but he was also a member of the team which destroyed the Warring Triad. Yet I cannot know how or why, and am not prepared to bank on that. There is a reason we only refer to Terra as the Godslayer, and none of her companions. Locke was man, physical, mortal, utterly human.

Faith: 9/10. Interestingly, Locke ranks high on the list of serving the Lady Cosmos no matter the information she is fed. Cosmos is a beautiful woman in need of help, of the protection of Champions. Locke has a tendency to help women who appear distressed. His Hero Complex would aide well.

Opposition: 2/10. Oddly, Locke has no real history with Kefka. Though I don't doubt that he hated him strongly, he had no real reason to stand against Kefka which outshone his companions. And while Hate was enough to get Bartz in, the docket makes no such significance of Locke's hate for Kefka. He opposed the man, yes, and he fought him, yes, but his reasons were as insignificant as Relm or Mog's. Kefka was the man who destroyed the world. There were mere townsfolk who hated him that much.

I am trying to be fair, because I am not sure I feel it right to restore the Godslayer's powers. We must be careful in not making a knee-jerk decision here. Terra at full power could stop Kefka at full power . . . but the sword points both ways. Just as Kefka, with his power to break unbreakable rules is a major threat, so, too, is Terra.

\Name: Celes Chere  
Age:18  
Sex: Female  
Species: Hume

I will say this now, and I will say this as completely and inarguably as I can. If we do not choose The Godslayer, we will choose Celes Chere. There is no debating this. There is no reason anyone could ever even HOPE to debate this. Celes is . . . the most powerful hume warrior to have ever lived in her world. Oh, sure, sure, there will be arguments that Leo Cristophe was greater, but do not be deceived. Remember that Kefka stabbed Leo, but Celes stabbed Kefka.

After discovering Terra, Gestahl's Empire was scrambling to replicate this child's might. A few tests had already been performed with Espers found prior to the assault on the Sealed Gate, and to that point, things had seemed successful. Kefka had become a powerful wizard in addition to the brightest tactician Vector had ever known. Soon, so very soon, Gestahl would establish order across the world, would unify all the tiny hamlets, city-states, and puny nations into one world. He would heal the planet.

Of the Magitek Knights, Celes was the first infant infused. She was raised, from that point onward, in the shadow of Terra, who, despite being her age, was already seeing military action. Inspired, rather than discouraged, Celes strove to be as good as the inhuman Magitek Queen, she pushed her body to the limit, to prove that any human could be as good as Terra. Encouraged by Leo, who had refused infusion, Celes labored on.

She was seen by some as one of the most extreme and zealous followers of Gestahl. One of his greatest warriors, to be sure, and she was favored in court as Kefka's protege. She was also loved by The Messenger, who cared for her as though she were his own. He used his status in the Empire to make certain she was always treated well.

In spite of this, she was not pampered, and the hardened woman who emerged from Celes' childhood was icy to the touch. She was hated by the rest of the military, for she drove her men harder than Leo. Of Gestahl's generals, only Kefka was hated more.

When Kefka ended the world, it was Celes who got on her feet and walked out her front door. Celes who could not rest knowing Kefka hovered above them. When the Godslayer had lost her will to fight, it was Celes who held the flame of hope for her until such time as she could return it.

Should we decide against Terra, we will take Celes. A dangerous choice lies before us now. Do we choose the woman who can end Kefka, but also end us? Or do we choose the woman who might end Kefka, but might as soon fail?

Terra was Kefka's opposite, she was everything he wanted to be, but Celes was everything Kefka was, and the temptation may prove stronger the second time.

Team Work: 10/10. Kefka destroyed Celes' world, left her with no reason to believe anyone she knew or loved had lived, and stranded her on a tiny island hundreds of miles from what remained of civilization. Despair consumed her. But this woman, recalling those she loved, set out once again to prove that a human could do what Terra did. She got to her feet, crossed the ocean, and set about restoring hope. Celes managed to convince her friends to abandon their despair and have hope again. Even Terra, the team's hope, had to be convinced. To that end, if the team suffered a great injury, Celes could be counted upon to help them.

Lethality: 8/10. A Magitek Knight, Celes was the foremost of soldiers in the company which slew Kefka. She was one among them who was more powerful, and she ultimately proved herself greater than members of the Warring Triad. The Gods who had given her might had become less than she. Celes is a force to fear, even if she is not the Godslayer.

Faith: 4/10. Celes is a strong-willed woman. She served the Empire only until she herself realized what Kefka was up to. In a similar vein, it is likely she would discover on her own what was happening, and at that point . . . I am unsure how she would view things. The Messenger thinks highly of her, but . . . can we trust her to aide Cosmos after seeing the truth in these things? Can we even believe she will buy the story about the Crystals?

Opposition: 8/10. Celes once served alongside Kefka in the Empire of Gestahl. Because they both were infused with Magitek by The Messenger, Celes may view herself as being like Kefka. She may fear that at any moment she may become him. In fact, Gestahl had banked on that on the floating continent, that Celes' similarities with Kefka would entice, rather than repulse her. Yet, given how much Celes strove to prove herself Terra's equal, it is also likely that she struggles often to prove herself Kefka's opposite. This is the side of her we would have to bank upon.

And this, of course, leaves the Godslayer.

Name: Terra Madeline Branford  
Age: 18  
Sex: Female  
Species: Esper

Terra Branford is called The Godslayer. A title she resents strongly, but accepts nonetheless. Her whereabouts in Heaven are unknown. Rumors say that The Choir of Elohim sealed her away, while others claim she now works as an Eidolon. Others still claim Lord Alexander is actually Terra. None no for certain where she is.

Terra is a case unusual in the history of Eternity. As I said before, to become an Eidolon, an angel or demon has to apply, and that application must be reviewed. This is not the case with Terra. From birth her name was listed in the Hall of Summons, though no God has ever accepted responsibility for it. She is . . . an interesting woman.

Her entire childhood Terra was the most powerful weapon the Empire held. To keep her a secret, though, she was always disguised with the regular uniform of any Magitek Knight, and the vast majority of the world did not know who this woman was. This changed the day Kefka decided to perform a few "tests" on her. Rumors spread from the Southern Continent across the world. Gestahl had some kind of witch. A woman who could use magic in ways which no one else could. The Magitek Queen, some called her, The Magitek Witch, said most.

During a mission to Narche, Terra broke free of Kefka's manipulations, and, though her mind was still clouded, was able for the first time in her life to make her own was the beginning of something, the world seemed to know. The mightiest men in the world all turned to their counsels, and the world began to vie for Terra in secret.

But Gestahl paid the price for manipulation. Terra chose the Returners, chose the people who allowed her to choose, who showed her kindness instead of use. The end result was Terra opening the Sealed Gate and leveling Gestahl's Empire.

This was part of Kefka's ploy, of course, but in the end, no amount of scheming, no Light of Judgment, no force could save Kefka. No one is entirely sure how she did it, but the statements given by every member of Terra's party agree: She laid down her life, wagered her humanity, and remained in Trance longer than she ought to have.

Terra destroyed a member of the Warring Triad, marched past them, confronted Kefka, weathered his attacks, and still turned her blade on him. That she survived Kefka's might, even before Trancing . . .

Needless to say, if we restore the Godslayer for this war, we risk her escaping into Heaven, and if she does turn against the Gods . . . who can say? Terra is the only person to have ever challenged her God in battle and not be thrust down into hell. Even her friends, who were at this battle cannot claim such, for among them, none save she survived a direct hit from the Light of Judgment.

Team Work: 6/10- Terra works on teams . . . she loved her companions by the end. She was willing to lay down her life for the entire world. But . . . at the same time, how do you put it? I mean, she has military training, and is more than qualified to work in a team, but Terra in battle always took the fore. She was so aggressive in battles that her team would have to step out of the way at times, for her attacks were often much more destructive than one might imagine. It's hard to know if The Godslayer would bother waiting up for mere men like Squall and Bartz, or if she would not simply challenge Chaos' men on their own. She is not prideful, but in battle there are few men who can keep up.

Lethality: 10/10. Terra, Godslaying aside, is a power to reckon with. As an Esper, her body's capabilities in magic and flesh increase drastically. Even when she does not maintain this form, the woman is capable of conquering nations almost entirely on her own. Had Kefka taken control of her, Terra would have been his Light of Judgment. Every being has their limits, of course. Terra can handle one God at a time, several demigods, a handful of powerful foes, or legions of underlings. There is no doubt that, if we sent Terra, Kefka would fall.

Faith: 0/10. Terra loathes manipulation. It is one of the reasons she fought against Kefka. It is impossible that we can deceive her, as well. The woman is instinctively suspicious. She did not simply agree to aid Bannon off the bat. She spent a long time before deciding he was right. She might not discover our plans, I suppose, wrapped as she might be in defending the others, but if she were to find out . . . we would have a disaster. This woman has no love for Gods, nor love of being fooled. There are some who might fear for Cosmos' safety if Terra found out Cosmos was using her. Ha, what a hypocritical statement to make. "We can't fool Terra, but if we do, we might be okay!"

Opposition: 10/10. No one stands more opposed to Kefka than Terra. No one. She was everything he yearned to be, everything he was not. Terra was free of love, filled with lethal power, and held the future of the world in her hands. Kefka killed to reach that state, and in the end, as his crown rusted and fell, as his wings blackened and burned, as his voice cracked, his skin sloughed, and his light darkened, Kefka saw the shining form of Terra tower above him. Like a God, some say, was the Godslayer, and in that moment Heaven saw Kefka for what he was: a cheap imitation, an artificial attempt at becoming the miracle of the miraculous.

She is, without a doubt, the best and worst choice. Terra is a star of death, and we must wonder how to aim her brilliant rays. To wield the Godslayer against the God Usurper . . . do we have the right?

"Well," I say, looking up from the dockets. "Which will it be? The Lady, or the Tiger?"

The Chronicler and The Engineer exchange anxious looks. The Wanderer merely offers, "Chere is more attractive than Branford." Which brings us, of course, to the man who knew them best of us.

The Messenger breathes a heavy sigh and says, "Personally? I think we should use Terra. But I am absolutely biased in this. Celes and Locke are like my children, and I will protect them how I must. Professionally, I say it's safest to choose Locke. Celes could be turned to the darkness, and Terra could prove more terrible than Darkness itself."

"Terra it is, then." The others stare wildly at me. "Look around you, I answer their stares. See the plains beyond this Palace. See how they swarm with demons. Recall they who seek us within the Palace. Remember that this is Kefka we're talking about." I spare a rare, genuine smile for my team, "When have we _ever_ been about safety? Terra is the most dangerous choice we can make, the greatest risk, and the greatest gamble. She will bring the greatest rewards."

"But if Terra goes wrong, The Gods will rend us limb from limb."

"If Terra goes wrong, there will be no Gods to rend us."

Another uneasy glance passes through them. They are mulling it over. It's good to see them questioning my sanity again. It adds a moment of normalcy to what has suddenly become our worst nightmare. We have just decided that, to combat the most unusual evil any fiend has ever dug up, we must unleash the most dangerous force The Gods have ever seen. If there is one thing The Fearless fear more than The Void, it is that which cannot be understood by the All-Knowing.


	7. Chapter 7

And we, five souls of no grand consequence, have just elected to unleash this force, to restore it's powers, to let it free again.

"We're with you," The Chronicler says.

"But you do understand this is insane," adds The Wanderer.

"At the least," The Messenger says, taking the dockets after we sign them, "we will all rot together."

"Aye, tha' we will," The Engineer says, "But p'raps a better question be this: 'ow do we get back up?"

"Well, I suppose we climb."

"Oh Gods," The Chronicler says, "I really must get back in shape." Here we stand, five men, atop Cosmos' Palace. Hidden until I, incensed by my so-called God, was followed back by agents of Chaos. What is before us is . . . hard to describe. Fiends and Seraphs duelling, Gilgamesh and his followers fighting and, well, there, in the midst of it all, stands a man in a long purple cape, bright silver armor, and a helmet known throughout the Heavens and Circles of Hell, and the Depths of the Void.

Garland is come.

At his side is a weapon beyond description, a blade forged of madness, with a hilt of cruelty and a the pommel set with a stone of obscenity. The black wind blows, and all around him there is battle. Yet he himself is oddly calm. He himself is oddly . . . composed.

And now a light is come, a shining ray which burns our very eyes. Such a sight, I am told, is what mere men experience in the presence of angels. What we see is a Goddess, and already I feel my body somehow . . . changed.

**GARLAND.** says Cosmos, and the fighting comes to a halt. No one can move, can lift a finger, can twitch a muscle. Such is the music of Cosmos' voice, and her light is strong enough to bring my companions to their knees, save The Messenger, who is able to stand among Gods. Yet I will not fall. I will myself to move, to wiggle toes, to blink, but I cannot. Yet I will not fall. I will not fall before this God, nor any other, no matter how perfect, how beautiful, how musical, how poetic, how romantic, how glorious, how inspiring she may seem. I WILL NOT BOW.

"What is the matter?" asks Garland, "do you feel you must perform for us? Is there perhaps someone here who does not know who you are . . . ? Address me by my name, Princess, or take the body nearest mine!"

**DO NOT TRIFLE WITH ME.**

**SHOW YOURSELF!** Shouts Garland, his voice somehow changed. "Or I will show them for you. Who here do you deceive? Who in this Castle does not already know?"

**CEASE THIS AT ONCE OR I WILL-**

"You'll what? File a complaint to The Highest? Because I'm following His will? Please. You have no ground."

A change comes over Cosmos, and the light seems to fade from her. Her brilliant blonde hair becomes green, her skin, the color of a sun, becomes a pale pink, her robes, woven from lightning and driven snow, turn the softest shade of blue imaginable. Nearly white, it is, yet still undeniably blue. Her crown, carved from the forging flames from whence universes are born, turns to gold, and looks so much less by comparison. The gems in it, once worlds themselves, are now but shiny pebbles. And when she speaks, her voice is no longer a thunderspell and song, but that of a young woman.

"Garland," she implores, "Please, please. Leave this place. Do only what El Cid demands."

"DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!" shouts Garland, his blade turning on this woman, this woman whom I know. "Do not ever speak the name of the Highest, Sarah. Such words are not for us to say, and not for them to hear."

"I am sorry," 'Sarah' responds, "I was lead to believe you desired no secrets here."

"It can't be!" shouts a Seraph at last. A warrior in red armor, he advances and says, "Garland? Sarah? But . . . if Sarah is Cosmos . . ."

"Ah," says Garland, eying the Seraph. "So this is whom you've been lying to. He still doesn't know, Sarah? Not even after his death?"

**GARLAND. LEAVE THIS ALONE.** says Sarah, her body fluctuating momentarily, the guise of Cosmos visible a mere second.

"You see, dear Warrior, I am Garland, your mortal foe."

"No!" says the Warrior, taking a step backward. "You are my friend, Garland! You and I worked alongside one another all our days in the service of the King, and when he passed, in the service of . . . The L . . .ad . . .y . . ."

"You see it, don't you. All your days you called her The Lady. And all throughout eternity, you have called Cosmos The Lady. And now you see that Princess Sarah and Lady Cosmos are the same . Tell me, boy! If Sarah is Cosmos, who am I!"

"No! No! You're my friend!"

"Ha! Friend? You remember nothing! Friends? How can we be friends, when YOU KILLED ME?!"

**STOP THIS CHAOS! LEAVE THIS MAN BE!**

"Cha . . . os? Garland is Chaos? What are you saying? Who are you? Where is the Goddess I died serving? What is this madness?"

"Ha! Listen to this whelp, Sarah, see how he suffers because of your kindness. Shall I have mercy upon your mercy and restore him? Shall I show him the lover you tore from him, the friends you made him forget? The heroism, the victory? The way he changed the world, and you stole that from him!?"

**STOP THIS CHAOS! I BEG OF YOU!**

**I CANNOT, COSMOS. I WILL NOT. BY THE GOD OF THE GODS OF GODS COMMAND, I WILL FIGHT YOU FOREVER!**

"Let me tell you all a story," Garland says, the Warrior sinking to his knees. "Of a man and a woman. It is a tale which extends back eons and eons, to times before angels wore wings, and Gods wore crowns."

"Garland, please!" Sarah cries, putting her hand on his shoulder, almost tenderly. It's then that I spy what she holds in her other hand. A folder stuffed with paper. The dockets!

I turn to The Messenger, "Give me the dockets." I say. "I'm not letting this or anything else stop us."

"Are you mad?" he whispers back, "You'll never get it off her."

"Long, long ago there was a world of Crystals. An entire universe dedicated to just these objects of power. A Crystal World, if you will. A treasure of the Gods, from whence all Crystals spawned. A realm of power The Gods could use to work wonders forever. A springwell of miracles, if you will."

"Just give me the dockets, I'm going to make the exchange."

"Fine. It's not like these aren't the death warrants for our everlasting souls anyway."

"Two Gods found this realm of Crystals, and the one entered. He reveled in the splendor and majesty of such a radiant realm. But his companion, she demanded he cease at once."

The Messenger hands me the dockets, and I will myself forward. Just small steps to start. I cannot move too quickly. I'll let Garland continue his monologue. He need not notice me until the time comes.

"The God would not be moved. So the Goddess attacked him, to drive him from the Crystal World. Their combat was fierce and terrible, and it's might was such that the Crystal World itself shattered, and all the Heavens were filled with Crystals in places there ought not to have been. Where once the Crystals had been tools of order and miracles, they now were the cause of chaos, of pain and suffering. Of madness complete."

I am nearer now. The last ranks of demons and seraphs are all that stand between me and this strange spectacle. In a moment I will have to come up with a very good means of getting this docket to Cosmos and getting the one she has away from her.

"So these two were taken to the throne of He Who is Highest, and to the Choir of Elohim. The Gods of Gods debated, and in the end the punishment was named: As their sin was battle, so, too, would their punishment be. They had chosen war over the rest of Heaven, and so they would live forever with it. And so the pair turned their eyes to a small, insignificant world where they would make their new beginning."

"These two Gods started a little war. They thought they could keep the matter private, that it would just be he and she fighting soft battles unheard throughout eternity. Oh, how little did they know. He kidnapped her, and was prepared to claim that first victory, when in stepped a force beyond their imagining. A young man, a Warrior of Light."

The Warrior stays still, simply staring as Garland reveals the truth. I begin to steel myself for what I must do. A plan has formed in my head. I will get these things from Cosmos. But not, I think, until Cosmos pays the price for what she has done to this man.

"The Warrior and his friends discovered that this God, this Chaos had drained the Crystals of their Light. And so they set out to stop him. Powerful friendships were formed, and the Warrior found the love of his life, a beautiful young woman he intended to wed at journey's end. But Cosmos would not lose her Knight. So she took from him his memory, gave Chaos back his life as Garland, and at the cost of this Warrior's future."

A murmur runs through the crowd. None here is familiar with this tale. Not even the Fiends who served Chaos recall this. Here, then, is the wound dealt by Cosmos, and here, now, it is exposed for all to see. Princess Sarah, her face streaked with tears, lashes back at Garland.

"How dare you! How dare you claim innocence in all of this! You are the one who got us cursed! You are the one who woke Kefka up! This isn't my fault. Oh Warrior, please, do not listen."

"Who have I served, all these years . . . ?"

"How, again, am I guilty?" Garland demands. "Yours was the hand which started this war. Yours was the hand which stole this hero's love! Yours was the tongue which did not refuse my challenge, which did not question The Highest! You are to blame here, not I! I have NEVER transgressed! I have not forgotten who we were, Cosmos!" Garland's shell shatters, and before us is the image of Chaos for a moment, burning and furious. **I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN THE VOWS WE MADE! I HAVE NOT,** Chaos reverts to Garland, and at this point, I make my entrance.

"Ah! Princess!" I shout, "There you are!" Sarah turns, as do Garland and the Warrior. I must keep the dockets concealed, and so I expose but one hand.

"Who are you?" Garland demands.

"Me? Sigfried the swordsman, of course."

"Hey!" a voice calls from the crowd, "No you're-"

"ENOUGH!" Shouts Gilgamesh, kicking the real Sigfried into silence. "I alone can find Waldo!"

"What are you doing?" Garland demands.

"I bring a message to the Princess, from the Lord Faram."

"Deliver it and be gone."

The Folder still behind my back, I approach Sarah. "Forgive me," I say softly, sliding the docket behind her back, and my arm around her waist. I look into the eyes of this Goddess for a moment, but spare no thought for what comes next. I lean my head in, and my lips touch hers. Soft, they are, those lips of the Goddess, and softly do they part for me. A fire fills my throat as I exchange the docket for the other, though, and I feel already the consequences for what I have done. I break free of the kiss, making certain to shut my mouth as I do so.

The sound of clapping is heard behind me. Garland laughs, leans toward me and says, "How touching. I suppose this is the part where you run, though, isn't it, Previa?"

"What's the matter, little Cid, don't I get a kiss, too?"

I open my mouth to respond, but what comes out is not any witty retort. No, rather I spew forth a ray of burning light, the breathe of Cosmos I swallowed during our kiss. The light burns Garland backward, and his howls stir the battle anew. I see his wings growing, and the transformation beginning. Not thinking, I turn and run, grabbing The Wanderer as I do. The Messenger grabs The Engineer and The Chronicler, and we all run for the wall again. Several hooks fly up before us, and that's it. The wall is breached.

"Demons!" The Messenger cries, our companions regaining their strength. We turn again, only to meet that source of nightmares, Chaos himself.

"Hate to break this to you, gentlemen, but this road is no worth to us, either."

"Thank you for that, Wanderer, but I think we knew already."

"Shut yer yaps an' RUUN!!"

We pelt off to the right, demons climbing the wall around us, the fiends no longer waiting to be distracted by Cosmos' seraphs. All Chaos' army is chasing us down. A light flares behind us. At the least we can count on The Goddess to delay The God. Yet still there is such a horde following us, and we cannot hope to escape. We have at least chosen a foe for Kefka. But we must find somewhere safe, must find somewhere to see whom Chaos has chosen, that we may oppose him.

"There!" The Chronicler shouts, "The Crystal Room!"

"Are you mad?" shouts The Messenger, "We can't risk Cosmos' Crystals! If we lead them there, we end the war before it begins!"

"Who among these fiends would dare endanger The Crystals and risk the punishments Cosmos and Chaos have brought upon themselves?"

"Good point, I'm for it."

"Right then, we'll have to jump it."

"On three?"

"Three be damned, just JUMP!!"

"Okay, we have ourselves a problem," I say, pushing my back against the door. A horde of fiends and demons separated from us by one flimsy door. Oh the things Cosmos will read when she gets our "bill"! "We can finish this docket here, but what do we do after that? UHRK!" The door bulges mightily. No doubt the fiends have found us.

"We could scatter, I suppose," The Chronicler says, "One of us might make it."

"But if that one doesn't have the docket, it doesn't matter."

"True . . ."

"False dockets, of course," says The Wanderer. "We have three dockets here, so we will have three heroes from that world. We each make a mad dash, bearing the name of the real hero in mind, and whoever makes it to Cosmos tells her the truth. We wait from that point for as long as we can, then we begin the new process."

"Right then. I suppose this may be the last set we work on together for a while, isn't it?"

"It might be the last we ever work on," says The Messenger. "Chaos isn't to be taken likely. His fiends may only be able to cause our souls pain, but no man can rightly say what the claws of Chaos will do to your soul."

"Then let's make this the best damn set we've ever done."

"Agreed,"

"I'll take tha' offer,"

"It's not like I'm doing anything better with my afterlife."

_Letter from The Goddess Minerva, Gaia, to the Goddess Cosmos:_

Honey! How you been girl!? I am doin' SO FAIN. Been keepin' my man in line and all that. Can't let boys get outta hand or they go cavortin' and all that, y'know? So listen Cozy, I hear you've been havin' a little trouble with that nasty Chaos, and you know what? I am behind you alla way, sister! I tell you what, I have ALWAYS thought The Highest's punishment was wrong. Now if his WIFE had handed down the decision, girl, you know it would have been wise. Men are nothing but horrible pigsluts who deserve the pain and suffering they get!

Okay sister! I'm gonna send you three of my finest! I know, two of them are MEN of all things, but don't you worry! At least if you pick a man you can shove him against Sephiroth all you want. You know how painful THAT'LL be. And of course Chaos picked Sephiroth, 'cuz he's a MAN and that's what MEN do. The nerve! I bet he doesn't pick a single woman this time around! Cuz MEN hate WOMEN, cuz they know we're so much better!

So here you go: Zack Fair, Cloud Strife, and my personal favorite, Aerith Gainsborough. And honey, you make sure those MEN you have doing this for you don't throw Aerith out just because she's a woman!"

"Well," I say, "If one thing's for certain, it's that Aerith won't be getting in."

"A pity," The Wanderer says, "Hers are legs that run forever."

"Fair enough," The Messenger concedes, "But if there's one thing The Scholar likes more than agitating a God, it's disobeying an order from one."

Name: Zack Fair  
Age: 21  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume (YNVH Cells)

At the age of 16, Zack Fair was beginning to make a name for himself in Shin-Ra Power Co.'s SOLDIER division. He was not the greatest of military minds, nor the most amazing SOLDIER in existance, but Zack Fair was marked, almost by the Hand of Minerva, for a greater destiny. Of the many 1st class hopefuls, Zack was hand selected by Angeal Hewely for the role of partner.

The magnitude of this privelege could be said to have escaped young Zack at the time. Which is fair enough. A sixteen year old is rarely expected to grasp that his master is a colleague of the most powerful warrior on the planet. For every Ingus, that is, there are a hundred Zacks or Luneths. Yet I will not be accused of downplaying the significance of this. Zack Fair was chosen by a colleague of Sephiroth. And, while Kefka is so horrible he could strike fear even into the hearts of the fearless, we who are not Gods fear Sephiroth nonetheless.

The fact of the matter is this: Zack Fair was ultimately a nice person with a bright and sunny attitude. His life, though, was a series of horrible misfortunes, tragedies, and mistakes which ultimately lead to his untimely death. The young man had the misfortune of being inducted into the SOLDIER program, and the great honor and terrible tragedy of being friends with Angeal Hewley.

At a very young age Zack was mingling with the most powerful warriors in his world. After the Wutai War, Genesis Rhapsodis surfaced as a foe of Shin-Ra, and soon Angeal went missing. This put Zack in close proximity with Sephiroth, and made the two of them partners of a sort in the Genesis War.

During this time, Zack also got to know the young Cetra named Aerith Gainsborough, and the two of them fell in love. Whether this relationship ever went physical or not is something which the docket does not specify. Nevertheless, Zack Fair knew Aerith and Sephiroth personally, and his life was almost entirely connected to the people who would later change the world.

Following the death of his mentor, Zack met a young Cloud Strife, and the guiding forces were at last in place. The Princess, the White Knight, and the Black Knight had all been gathered, and so the end drew nigh.

Genesis revealed to Sephiroth the truth- that Sephiroth was no Cetra, no savior, no hero from the Promised Land, but that he was a monster, the spawn of monsters (for the record, this report makes no distinction between Hojo, Lucrecia, or Jenova, all are here simply "Monsters") and inevitably a monster himself. Interestingly, Sephiroth believed this with ease. His own arrogance had always lead him to believe he was special, and Genesis' tale of being a Monster mattered not to him.

Zack and Sephiroth met Jenova, and a battle ensued. Here, Zack lost, and Sephiroth would have gone on unstopped had he not been defeated by, of all people, the grunt, Cloud.

Minerva, cruelty personified, decided that this settled things. The White Knight now trumped her old Blue Knight, and she needed him no longer. Zack defeated Genesis, as per her wishes, and she promptly lead Zack to his death, all the while allowing Genesis to continue on, despite the death and pain he had wrought.

Zack Fair is scored as follows:

Team Work: 7/10. Zack is a trained soldier capable of fighting alongside others in a coherent strategy if needs be. Nevertheless, he was a reckless youth, hot of blood, strong of head, and stiff of neck. The majority of Zack's accomplishments in the Genesis War were done alone. A one man army, you might say. Some find that useful. Frankly, we've taken enough of a Gamble on the Godslayer as it is, though. I'm looking for a safer choice.

Faith: 7/10. Zack actively fought against someone who proclaimed to be laboring for the favor of the Goddess. Nevertheless, Zack Fair is named among the choirs of angels, and is listed as having been faithful to his Goddess. He was a simple individual who believed in the greater good and, begrudgingly as I admit this, even Minerva is willing to accept belief in the greater good as a form of faith. Zack Fair did not ever figure out what was going on during the Genesis War. He had to be told, and even then he strove toward his original end: to make right what he believed was wrong. In this vein, Zack is perfect for us.

Lethality: 7/10. SOLDIER operatives are powerful combatants, as far as mortal men may go. Their superhuman strength, agility, and accuracy makes them a fearsome foe, and separates them greatly from the average hume. Nevertheless, Jenova infusions make these warriors subject to possible manipulation by Sephiroth. Likewise, Sephiroth's might is almost inexplicable, save that the combination of human and Jenova have made for a hybrid more powerful than either race could have hoped to have ever been alone.

Opposition: 5/10. Zack Fair was once friends with Sephiroth and, given the chance, would try to persuade him to return to the light. Sephiroth, of course, is not likely to accept. Zack fought this foe once before, and though he won a round or two, was ultimately trounced by him. Thus far I have found that quality to be damning.

A silence has fallen on the hall outside the Crystal Room. The demons and fiends assembled on the other side of the door have ceased to push against it. Something is coming. I can only pray that it is not Chaos, at last breaking free of Cosmos. It can't be Kefka, can it? Even Chaos knows he cannot bring Kefka here. To give Kefka a Crystal . . . Gods, I don't want to think about it.

"It's quiet . . ." The Messenger says, "too-"

"Don' say it!!" shouts The Engineer. "Dinnae say "tew quiet!" D'ye WANT sommat horrible to be commin' through tha' door? Sommat horrible Always happens to folks what sez "tew quiet!""

"What was it the last time? Does anyone remember what happened the last time things go quiet?" The Wanderer asks.

"Oh! Yes! I do! Marvelous time we had that time, didn't we! I was just thinking about that the other day. I believe the last time things got quiet . . . they unleashed the Behemoths . . ."

"Makes you glad you're dead, doesn't it?" I say.

"Not especially," says the Wanderer, "We might like dying more than living through getting gored by a Behemoth."

"I hope a Behemoth is all it is," I say, "Who knows what else Chaos has at his disposal."

"WEAPONS," says The Messenger, "And I'm not talking the horrible mechanical monstrosities constructed throughout the Heavens. I'm talking the living, breathing Omega the Sinner, Omega the Exile, Omega the WEAPON kind. Chaos could always throw that at us."

"Why thank you," says The Wanderer, "for making us all feel so much better. You are a ray of sunshine in a sea of darkness, Messenger. It's amazing your granddaughter had the strength to go on after being exposed to you for such time."

The Messenger's face grows red and he steps forward and punches The Wanderer in the face. The Wanderer, in turn, raises his fist to fight back. Before a fight can break out, though, The Engineer has grabbed his arms and The Chronicler has grabbed The Messenger. After a few brief moments of struggle the two break loose and simply look away from one another.

"Really?" I ask, looking around me. "Gods only know what's on the other side of this door, and you two feel the need to fight? Grow up, gentlemen. You're dead."

I sit back down by the door and crack open the next docket. After just a moment of looking it over, The Chronicler says softly, "Scholar. They're singing."

"Yes, yes," I snap, "I haven't the time for the "We All Are Angels And All Sing So Let's Love Each Other" speech today. As long as Wanderer and Messenger get over themselves, I'm fine."

"No," The Chronicler says, "Not them. THEM."

A moment later and I hear it too. The fiends and demons on the other side of the door have begun to sing. What this means I don't know. It's creepy, yes, but I'm not letting it stop me.

Name: Aerith Faremis  
Alias: Aerith Gainsborough  
Age: 22  
Sex: Female  
Species: Cetra

Aerith Faremis is an unusual choice. At least, her docket makes that clear. Born to a Cetra named Ifalna and a hume named Gast Faremis, Aerith was in many was raised to be everything Sephiroth was not, could not be, and would inevitably aim to destroy.

Shin-Ra had Aerith's parents exterminated while she was still young, and the child was brought up by a hume named Elmyra Gainsborough. Sephiroth's parents, on the other hand, were never executed by Shin-Ra (the report here makes no distinction between the monsters from whence Sephiroth spawned and his parents. All three fiends are treated as being part of the same group.), and he was raised a Prince of Midgar, whilst Aerith dwelt in it's slums.

Ironic, really, that this planet so glorified and praised the cuccoo it had hatched, whilst it's last true egg lay on the ground, never learning to fly. Such is the way of things, though. The docket, interestingly, provides a number of alternative timelines for Aerith, just as it did for Cecil. Apparently, in several more prominent variants, Aerith is raised in the houses of Shin-Ra, and the Jenova War is waged between her and Sephiroth.

Said Timelines are of interest, no doubt, but I prefer to dwell on the timeline that is at stake here. The main point is this: At just twenty-two years of age, Ms. Gainsborough held one of the three mightiest Crystals in her world: The White Materia. She used this Materia to summon a spell known as Holy, a gambit against Sephiroth's coming Meteor. The other two crystals, incidentally, are the Black Materia, and the Goddess Materia.

I wish to place special importance on the fact that Aerith summoned Holy mere moments before being slain without any sort of struggle. Holy, in this realm, is a lethal concentration of Life Stream Energy which is used to aide a planet in it's time of need. The problem, though, is that Holy is a double-edged sword. Holy acts based upon Sin potentials and values. The idea is that Holy would stop Meteor because the death of a planet was the highest amount of sin. The gamble, though, is that Holy could just as likely have ended the human race in that world, blaming them for the deaths of the Cetra and the coming of Meteor.

Which is, of course, ironic. The Black Materia was a charge of the ancients. If they'd wanted it to never be used, they should have cast it into a volcano, rather than resting it in a foolish trap. The pride of the Cetra in their own magic was their downfall. They thought they could be like the Gods, and they got what was coming to them.

Which brings me to my concern with Aerith. Physically, she is a total failure. Her body, though it was in excellent condition for a young Cetra woman, could never hope to contend with a trained hume soldier, let alone to contend with an anomaly like Sephiroth, a hybrid forged with all the most lethal aspects of both man and Jenovian, without either's redeeming qualities. Magically she was gifted, it's true, the only one in that era of her world to wield the White Materia. The problem was that her irresponsibility and rashness in the use of wielding said Materia could have slaughtered the ones she hoped to save.

Though it's worth noting: Aerith makes an interesting check against Terra. She could summon Holy as a defense against a Terra gone wrong. Assuming, of course, that the death of the Gods is in fact a sin . . .

Aerith is scored accordingly:

Team Work: 8/10. Normally, I like to score people who die for their worlds a perfect 10/10 in the Team Work category. Aerith does not receive this mark for the following reasons: A) She could very nearly have murdered her entire world along with her, and B) Aerith's intent was never to die for her world. She was not willing to die, and would have lived. Which brings me to my next major concern:

Faith: 3/10. Because these warriors will have no memory of their afterlives, Aerith would be stuck with memories of dying, and nothing beyond that. I cannot imagine the fear this might strike into her, to believe she died and faded into nothingness. I understand Cetra remain on their worlds after their deaths in the service of Minerva as stewards of the worlds, but to see nothing at all after you die, that would be a terrible punishment for a woman who was essentially kind of heart. I do not want to be the man who pushes this woman, who stresses her to her limits. I cannot forgive myself already for the Warrior of Light. I do not wish to know that I chose to make this woman believe there was nothing for her after death, and watch her join Sephiroth in changing history. Ha! To think, then it truly would be a war waged between them, to see who could change time as they might.

Lethality: (1 or 10)/10. This is a bit difficult to explain. Aerith's lethality is either high or low, depending on how one looks at it. Physically she could never hope to contend here. But magically, armed with the White Materia, she could prove able to kill all and obtain the crystals for herself. The question really comes down to whether a crystal like the White Materia can be brought to the battlefield.

Opposition: 7/10. Aerith's entire life was lived in opposition to Sephiroth, however subconsciously. Nevertheless, I express my doubts largely because the only time the two openly confronted each other, Aerith lost. Excluding, of course, her post mortem victory, which cannot be counted, given that actions taken after death are not included in the dockets.

"It's getting louder!" The Chronicler says.

"I recognize this song . . ." The Wanderer says softly. "And yet at the same time, I can't make it out. If only the words were clearer."

"I have a bad feelin' abou' this," adds the Engineer.

"Messenger," I say, looking up from the docket. "Grab the Crystal. We're not leaving that here."

"You want me to carry a Crystal?"

"No, you'll be bringing that to the Engineer. He's going to run with it. You'll be taking Aerith. Here," I slide the docket along the floor to him. "Wanderer, you're taking Zack. Chronicler, you're taking a dummy docket. Are you okay with that? We'll put, I don't know, we'll sign a paper marked Nanaki and you'll run with that."

"So you're taking Cloud then, huh? You sure he's the best?"

"No idea yet. But I'll run with him anyway. I wish they'd stop singing. It's making it hard to concentrate."

"I have a question about your scores for Aerith, Wanderer," says the Chronicler, "You marked her lethality AND her opposition at zero. I was under the impression you approved of women more often than men?"

"True," The Wanderer answers, "But a woman like this is much too beautiful to send into battle. You'll notice even the Godslayer was marked similarly."

"Fair enough."

A beat is now becoming clear in the background. At first things sounded like some manner of dirge, but now the fiends and demons' song has grown somehow exuberant, as though they are celebrating something. The little imps are likely crooning at the idea of cornering a couple of Cids. No matter. The fiends cannot conquer us. Not here, not now, not ever.

"One more. We can get this last one done. We have never failed before, and we will not let these fiends stop us now."

Name: Cloud Strife  
Age: 21  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume

Cloud Strife is, without a doubt, the most important nobody in the history of his world. Born in a tiny town called Nibelheim, Cloud existed far from the powers of the world. The Princes of Midgar and their wars with the Wutai were as fairy tales to him. The youth could have no idea that the day would come when he would change the world.

At a young age, Cloud was like many other shy youngsters through out creation: he had his eyes on a girl, but, being awkward, did not often include himself in the ways of the world. Then, as it happens with awkward young lads, a poorly maintained bridge collapsed and the apple of his eye was injured.

The people of Nibelheim, notorious morons (for the love of God, the entire Jenova Project was conducted IN NIBELHEIM and no one ever knew. JENOVA HERSELF was held not far from the town. The entire reactor was unguarded, and no one ever went and looked.) blamed young Cloud for the inevitable collapse of a bridge he did not build and was not responsible for maintaining. The village of idiots went so far as to delude themselves into believing it was this boy's fault that Tifa and her friends were on that bridge, that they were in no way responsible.

It is no wonder, then, that some years down the road, as Cloud, face blood spattered, stared into the dying eyes of his own pseudo-mentor, that he deluded himself, that his mind shattered and broke. But I am skipping ahead a bit.

One fateful day, at the climax of the Genesis War, Sephiroth, Zack, and Cloud found themselves in Nibelheim, investigating the reactor. Sephiroth went mad, and he began to stab people. Cloud, a low-level grunt, grabbed Zack's sword and fought back. Sephiroth, thinking he was better than the boy, stabbed him and, to his great surprise, found that his own sword was used to drop him deep into the planet.

This was not the only time Cloud would defeat Sephiroth, though. Far down the road, after healing his mind of the delusions that the world had brought onto him, Cloud and his friends confronted Sephiroth at the end of the Jenova War, deep within the North Crater. Sephiroth, amassing greater power, failed to realize that other people grew in might over time, too.

Sephiroth, therefore, was defeated again, his body broken and shattered, falling into the Life Stream. But as the heroes turned to leave, Sephiroth reached out and tried to do as his Mother before him and take the body of Cloud. A war of wills, it seemed, and even still Sephiroth remained certain he would not lose. Obviously, Sephiroth lost again.

Sephiroth's inability to defeat Cloud is almost obscene. His body destroyed, he broke into three lesser aspects of himself. These confronted Cloud two years later, and were still defeated, despite the fact that Cloud had not trained for two years, was afflicted with an illness of their making, and still contained Jenova's cells. The odds were ridiculously stacked in their favor, and yet these aspects failed spectacularly.

Sephiroth pulled himself together in a last ditch effort to slay Cloud, and even still, though his others had worn Cloud down, Sephiroth, for all his might and power, lost once more to him. This was a man who toppled nations, who threatened the life of the planet, who could make ill the whole of humanity, yet here stood just one man who could and had defeated him multiple times.

To make more plain what I am getting at, Zack Fair and Aerith Gainsborough both lost to Sephiroth. Cloud, on the other hand, defeated Sephiroth multiple times over a span of seven years. I cannot, therefore, believe any option could be better than this man who has never lost to Sephiroth.

Team Work: 6/10. Cloud was one of the harder to work with members of his team, given his states of advanced delusion during much of the earlier parts of his quest. He was, however, the appointed leader of the group, and remained so even after recovering his identity. Which speaks to the ability of this young man to lead, that he should be a viable leader no matter who he is.

Faith: 7/10. Cloud is used to being deceived, and has proven himself able to continue on with his original goal both before and after a stunning revelation. It is my opinion that this is the sort of man who, upon discovering the truth, could be trusted to stop Chaos before taking time to worry about the implications of things. He is also at peace with the way his history turned out, and could be depended upon to preserve that history.

Lethality: 8/10. Cloud, though never a trained SOLDIER operative, received the skill of Zack Fair, compounded with his own original knack for wielding a blade. This is not, of course, the first time skill has passed from one to the other by means other than teaching. Cara Baldesion received Galuf's talents along with her own following his death in the Great Forest of Moore.

Opposition: 10/10. Cloud, despite having never personally known Sephiroth before his transformation, is the perfect enemy for him. Every single encounter between these two men has ENDED, no matter what happened in the middle, with Cloud defeating Sephiroth. Successive wins over a period of 7 years is enough for me to be sure that no matter the time or place, should Cloud and Sephiroth battle, Sephiroth will inevitably be defeated.

The fiends are loud enough to understand now. I don't like it. I don't like what they're singing. I don't think any of us do. The tune is indeed a familiar one. It's one I didn't think I'd ever hear in the Palace of a Goddess, though. It's not one people are prone to sing in Heaven. But there it goes.

_Estuans interius,  
Ira vehementi,  
Estuans interius,  
ira vehementi_

The others are exchanging anxious glances. This is indeed more stressful than any of us agreed to in the beginning. Had we known that names like Kefka, Terra, Cloud of Darkness, and Sephiroth would be bandied about, we might not have signed on at all. I don't think anyone would have.

"Listen up!" I say, getting their attention. "Things look bad right now. Really, really bad. We're cornered, trapped, with a horde right outside the door. We're about to separate again, and this could be the last time we see each other for a long time. Some of us may yet endure terrible pain before the end of this."

_Sors immanis  
Et inanis!  
Sors immanis  
Et inanis!_

"But know this: We are Cid. Ours is a name known throughout Heaven and Hell. We are of a host that is vast and diverse, but always known for excellence! We are angels in the service of a Goddess, and our souls will not this day die! Though these fiends conspire to erase our work, though they tear at our documents, shred our folders, papers, and dossiers, though they wipe from the face of eternity the things we have said and done, we will not give up!"

_Veni, veni, venias,  
Ne me mori facias,  
Veni, veni, venias,  
Ne me mori facias._

"We will not go into the darkness in shame, we will not surrender ourselves to Chaos and his cronies! We will defy his mad laws so long as we have legs to stand on, arms to fight with, and hearts to feel with. We will press on!"

_Veni, veni, venias, (Gloriosa!)  
Ne me mori facias, (Generosa!)  
Veni, veni, venias, (Gloriosa!)  
Ne me mori facias, (Generosa!)_

"This, my brothers, is our day! Spread your wings, hold your heads up high, and prepare to run for your lives. Gods be with you, till we meet again."

A blade stabs through the door, long, slender and sharp. It pulls back, then is thrust through once more. Again it plunges in and out, and then the door is knocked down. As one we voice the final line of the dark hymn, knowing only too well who it is that emerges from the dust.

"Sephiroth!"


	8. Chapter 8

For a moment, things seem to stand still. We five hold our respective charges close, and stare, short of breath, at the demon himself. Sephiroth has also cast off his human face, and is a fury of mismatched, malformed wings. Certainly aspects of this nightmare resemble the old form, but at the moment it's clear Sephiroth's rage cannot control itself enough to manifest his face.

And then, of course, all hell breaks loose. We charge Sephiroth, even in spite of his sword, and throw our weight into our shoulders, sending him backward. In a tangle of flailing arms and feathers, we roll across the floor a moment before making our way out the door and instantly wishing we had not.

The Fiends and assorted demons weight beyond, and they fall upon us at once. It is here I lose sight of my company. I can not think now for their safety. I must only think for the well being of myself and this docket. Buffeted by arms, tentacles, claws, and even an odd weapon or two, I am wracked with pain already. Behind me I hear that voice, deep yet soft, roaring amidst hellish shrieks, "Seize them all! Agony to those who fail to bring me a Cid! Pleasure to those who catch one!"

I drop to the floor and crawl amidst the legs of the demons. Enraged as they are, they have become too busy fighting one another to notice a bump by the shin. The Fiends especially are busy fighting. I doubt they enjoy receiving orders from this man when they are Chaos' lieutenants. At last I break free of the throng and get to my feet.

I am but a few paces away when I am seen, and somebody roars, "There's one!" the demons stop, turn as one, and the chase is now on. The walls are beginning to turn into raw meat, but thank the Gods, the floor seems to stay stone for now. Chaos is fighting Cosmos for control of her own home. It's tragic, in a way, that not even her home is safe. Chaos can beat her and beat her and beat her, but she could never have the hope of defeat.

The meatwalls are trying to tell me something. Words in thousands of languages are being displayed, none of them are Angelic, and none of them are the language of my home. I have to focus on that, because frankly, the idea that walls can be made from meat is not one I wish to contemplate just now.

I turn left at a pool. Was this the public pool? It's hard to tell now, the waters are trying to decide if they're made from milk, blood, lava, or liquified eyes. How odd, though, that Kraken and the other Water Fiends should be here already. They were among the number Sephiroth had sent, so how have they moved so quickly?

No time to worry now. If I were Cosmos, where would I be? Have to get this docket to her, and I have to figure out how she gets new ones. She was on the roof, but how do I get there now? I wasn't ever used to the Castle when it was whole, how can I know navigate it as it fluctuates? For now I suppose getting outside is the goal.

The Gates of Cosmos' Palace are before me. They fluctuate between solid and liquid, tangible and intangible, real and not, open and shut. I will have to time my run through them to avoid being speared. I would really not enjoy going through that again. Especially since these bars are likely to force my wings into manifesting for the specific purpose of stabbing them, too. Growing limbs so that they can feel pain is perhaps one of the most agonizing experiences an angel can endure.

Before me is a shadow, and yet it's impossible, isn't it? He was behind me just moments ago! But there he is . . . Sephiroth. He's tidied himself up, I see, for whatever that is worth. I do not know how I will pass him, but pass him I shall.

"Cid . . ." he calls, "have mercy, Cid . . . are we so different, you and I? I just want to make the Gods understand me . . . it isn't my fault, Cid . . . I was born this way . . . What I do, it's only natural. Please, Cid . . . join us. We need your help, Cid . . ."

"You see it, don't you?" asks a voice from behind me, or is it two? There stands Mateus Palamecia, his spirit looking patched together, his very soul scarred. "The Gods' order has gone corrupt. Their songs are a dischord throughout Eternity. We know you loathe them . . . help us change things for the better. We offer you all the desires of your heart. Whatever you want can be yours with the power of the Crystals, oh Cid. Join us."

"See the light," commands a voice from within the wall. The meat parts to allow through a figure clad in shadows, ebon armor concealing an angel in serious need of guidance, "Things should not be as they are. And thus we gather the Crystals for Chaos. Help us lay to rest this eternal war. Help us do as Chaos has been doing for ages."

"No," says a woman, "defy us. Do as all you humes must. Cling to your fleeting light, clutch it, that I might have the pleasure of ripping it from your cold, dead hands. Oh yes, little boy. Here is the secret of the Void, that horrid whisper which mocks and taunts the Gods: As there is life after death, so, too, is their yet another death."

"Make your choice!" declares Ex-Death, sprouting from the floor, "Will you serve Cosmos another day? Will you cling to this precious concept of what is right, knowing it is wrong, only to force this battle ever onward? In your hands it rests, Cid-of-my-home, the power to change everything!"

"RAHRAHRAHRAAAH!! Oh, please. One Cid, two Cid, red Cid, DEAD CID. They're all the same! One is as good as the next. Let's just rip his wings off, huh? We can see how he feels about it then. Don't give the man a choice. Nothing good ever came of free will, now, did it?"

Oh Gods. They brought Kefka with them. We. Are. All. Doomed.

"Surrender the docket," Sephiroth says, "have mercy on us, Cid. We are guilty only of trying to change history. We are gathering the Crystals to end this war forever, to make right that which is wrong. Will you turn your back, knowing you can end that which you so hate?"

"We have taken some of your dockets, Cid. We have seen the theme," says Mateus, "the pattern is always the same: What would this person do if they knew the truth? What would Firion do if he knew that winning this war means nothing permanent, that it changes nothing, that he is being used in a cosmic comedy of the Gods?"

"So we have to ask you," Golbez says, "What will you do, now that you know? You see a road before you where you can stop Cosmos' and Chaos' war. Will you take it? Or is your faith in Cosmos strong enough to keep you fighting for her, even when you know you have been fooled?"

"You might call this a temptation," Kefka adds, putting a hand on my shoulder, his head by my ear. "But **really** if you're being tempted to do the right thing, is it really a sin? And if it is a sin to be right . . . is there really any incentive to stay sinless?"

No one is coming for me. I must make my own way out of this. But how? I am no warrior, and I never was. All my might lays in my will and mind, and I doubt seriously that I can persuade these people to anything. They are not starved for attention, as Chaos' fiends were, and will not fight against each other in public. Nor are they as easily fooled as the regular demons in this place.

"You have the wrong Cid," I say, "You're gathering Crystals? See here, I have only paper."

"Kill him," The Dark Cloud says, "He is mocking us. Let him see what death-after-death is like."

"SILENCE!" Mateus barks. "Your words are meant to deceive us, Cid. Have you such hatred on poor souls as we? Your papers are made from Crystal, or are as good as it, the weight they bear. Please, show some pity. Look at us. Sephiroth lusts for carnage constantly, he can't turn it off. Kefka longs only for the Godhood that is rightly his. Ex-Death asks only that he be granted peace, be it internal or external. Golbez wants the chance to grow up with his brother; is a normal life so great a sin? Cloud here desires the respect of the Gods, and I?"

Mateus runs a hand along his scarred and patched face. Almost, almost I am willing to believe the tear he sheds. He mists his eyes and looks at me, his voice quavering as though his throat were actually clenching, "I only ask that I be made whole again."

Kefka slaps me on the back and lets forth another one of his laughs. He slinks out in front of me, twisting around, serpentine yet strangely human. "C'mon now, little Cidy, don't be shy. What's so bad about playing with the destinies of all living things? The Gods do it all the time. Don't you want to be like the Gods? Don't you want to build and raise and cultivate so that you can SMASH AND BREAK AND MAIM AND REND AND TEAR AND CHEW AND SPIT AND DESTROY AND KILL KILL KILL!!?"

Sephiroth grabs hold of Kefka's shoulder and pulls him, back, shoving him out of the way. "Shut up . . ." he rasps, "Make your choice, Cid . . . join us . . . or entertain . . ."

"By the ruins of your wings do I cast ye out," calls a voice from beyond the gate, "In the name of the Holy Father do I send ye into darkness once more! Behold the Hallowed Bolt, beware the Lightning Stab!!"

The gate explodes and through it flies a surging bolt of lightning. Upon entering the Palace, the lightning branches, striking each of the foes surrounding me in turn. The demons fall back, retreating into the darkness for cover. Though I do not know who my savior is, I flee toward him anyway. Anyone is better company than those I leave behind.

Once safely beyond, I catch my first sight of the realm surrounding Cosmos' Palace since my arrival. The fields, once lush and verdant, are now trampled and muddy, scorched and churned. The palace walls have crumbled in places, and great ramps have been wedged against them in others. Here and there lay demons and angels alike, all struggling to get back on their feet.

"Horrible, this war," says my savior. I turn at last and see a man I had not expected. The Thunder God, Cidolfas Orlandeau, Seraph, has come to my aide? Should I be impressed or afraid? Somehow, as I gaze at this man, I cannot think of terrible things, reassured by his presence. "My God stands against this as always, I do not come to turn the tide for Cosmos."

"You're Cidolfas Orlandeau!"

"And you, my friend, must be Cid Previa." It's funny, really, hearing him say that name. When my own God said it, I flew into a rage, when my own companions say it I am harsh to them. I have not often allowed the name Cid to be used at all in our counsels for a long time. Yet hearing this man say it, hearing him say it does not bother me.

"If you do not come to aide The Lady, why do you come?"

"You may consider that I have come to aide you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Your words have moved The Highest, and he is now calling a great Council of Cids, summoning all Cids, demon, angel, man-undecided, every Cid throughout eternity, unborn and deceased, all are to report to the Sacred Nebula and attend."

"I cannot leave yet," I say, trying not to seem too surprised by this turn of events. "My companions are within, and I must finish my Ministry to the Lady Cosmos."

"So I was told to expect. I have brought the next series of dockets for you. The Liar sent word of their latest choice to Chaos, and Cosmos was able to notify The Great Hyne just recently. Have you delivered Minerva's champion to Cosmos yet?"

"I have not. I have only just escaped with the decision in my possession."

"Very well then. I bear on my person a letter from Faram, of the Choir of Elohim. As he outranks Cosmos, his authority exceeds her own. You will deliver the champion of Minerva's into my keeping, and I shall deliver it to Cosmos for you."

"How are we going to reach Cosmos? I don't even know where she is."

"Fear not," Cidolfas said, "though the enemy deride. Courage, for we have more upon our side. As you have your companions, so, too, was I given a Council of Cids to challenge this Palace with. We will escort you as far as the Goddess, deliver our message, and then depart."

I will not here dwell on the Cids who joined us. I make mention only of their names: Cidolfas Orlandeau, Cid Highwind, Cid Haze, Cid Secondus, Cid Fabool IX, and Cid Randell. All are dressed in Seraph cloaks, though I know for a fact that some, such as Highwind and Fabool, are assuredly not Seraphs. Each is armed with a shining weapon of his choosing. In this company I am safe, and so I now focus on that work which is mine.

_Letter from The Great Hyne, God spec. engineering, to the Lady Cosmos, Goddess spec. Order:_

BEHOLD! I write now to you, oh lady of the shining curse, in response for your cry to help! Called out you did, for aide from The Gods, and come to your aide am I! Chaos has chosen Ultimecia, Sorceress Inheritrix of my might-half, and so to you do I send three champions to stay her hand. CHOOSE WISELY! Only one can I lend, and that choice must be the correct one!

Stand firm, Cosmos! ORDER! Order must reign over chaos! Such is the way of the Gods! We are to steward and preserve, guide and direct! Chaos is too sloppy, too attached! Show him now that Gods rule, and that our MIGHT is what makes RIGHT! Strike down the foe! Go! Realize your dreams! Forever against the WEAK and snivelling!

Name: Rinoa Caraway  
Alias: Rinoa Heartilly  
Age: 17  
Sex: Female  
Species: Hume (Sorceress)

Rinoa Caraway, more commonly known as Rinoa Heartilly, is the only child of General Caraway and Julia Heartilly. Her relationship with either of her parents is non-existant at best. I am, in fact, somewhat perplexed at the decision to offer this woman up. She hails from the same world as The Chronicler, but he never spoke much concerning her.

During the earlier parts of Ultimecia's attempts on Time, the nation of Galbadia began extending it's power outward, where once it had only been a defense against Esthar. One of the nations toppled by Galbadia during this time was the little realm of Timber. Here Rinoa began to make a name for herself in one sense or another. She joined a rebel faction (of which there were many) and the faction began to make plans for a strike against Galbadia.

This plan, despite being supported with Garden SeeDs, failed miserably. Such, I am given to understand, is par for the course with Rinoa. Few, if any, of her plans ever succeeded, and many times she found herself being used more than fighting against the Users.

The weight of Rinoa's docket seems to revolve around her powers as a Sorceress. Interestingly, Rinoa's Sorceress powers are Ultimecia's, and therefore the two form some kind of twisted paradox. In order for Rinoa to have her powers, Ultimecia must have passed hers on, but in order for Ultimecia to have her powers, Rinoa must have passed hers on.

To that end, the powers may be considered as cancelling one another out, since both women essentially wield the same sword. The question, then, comes down to other concerns. While history turned out well enough for Rinoa, she may yet have concerns with changing the future. If she dies without passing on her Sorceress powers, she does not obtain peace. If she dies and passes her powers on, she allows Ultimecia to exist. If she allows Ultimecia to exist, she preserves history, but also cements the future.

Rinoa would be a maverick, then. She was used easily enough by Ultimecia, yet Ultimecia, unaware of her importance, was only too willing to kill her. But neither of these women can destroy each other, for to do so would be to open the Paradox completely and allow it to rage forth. While Cosmos could squash the Paradox before it got out of hand, the creation of one is a thing I would like to avoid.

Team Work: 8/10. Rinoa works well on teams, having organized civillians to strike against a common foe long before she ever began to associate with SeeD. She does, however, feel the need to mesh with a team, and in this instance she would not. Only the second woman in to be chosen, Rinoa would have little common history with Terra, and would likely only get along well with Luneth, given his general friendliness.

Lethality: 7/10. Rinoa's body, as you may have guessed, is not, or at the least, was not at that time sufficiently prepared to wield the Sorceress' Power, and thus her physical combat prowess is rated low. Likewise, her Sorceress' Power cancels out Ultimecia's, meaning neither one can wield it, since both are wielding it at once. Only against others would Rinoa stand in the echelons of power.

Faith: 4/10. As I have already discussed, it is hard to gauge HOW Rinoa would react to this opportunity, especially if she understood exactly what chance she was being given. As it is, the docket refuses to specify what Rinoa did with her power, whether in her own life she thwarted Ultimecia by not passing her powers on, or whether she preserved past, present, and future at the cost of thousands of lives.

Opposition: 2/10. Rinoa did not fare well in opposing the Sorceress during her own quest. Ultimecia reached inside her and defeated her, gaining control and free use of her body. I am not, I'm afraid, a great fan of people who lost to a villain. It isn't, in my experience, a good sign.

Name: Ward Zabac  
Age: 25  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume

. . . What? I . . . What!? This docket makes no sense. It's blank, it's bare, and there are no achievement highlights written within it. There is quite literally one sentence scribbled in here by an angel who must have been in a hurry. I . . . who is this guy, anyway? How am I supposed to glean anything from this?

_Ward Zabac fought in Sork War II, was a big guy, knew all the most important people, and died a happy man._

WHAT!? I mean come on! I'm trying to protect the Heavens from the likes of Kefka and the Cloud of Darkness, and who do they give me? "Ward Zabac"!? Who IS this guy?? I don't, I mean, what am I supposed to, WHAT IS SORK WAR TWO!?

Team Work: 10/10. Hey, Ward knew ALL THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE.

Lethality: 10/10. Why? BECAUSE HE WAS A BIG GUY.

Faith: 10/10. HE DIED A HAPPY MAN. HAPPY PEOPLE DO ANYTHING.

Opposition: 10/10. He fought in Sork War II, people. Doesn't get any more opposite of Ultimecia than that, since she did not fight in Sork War II.

This entire docket is a farce! It's like Hyne wanted to make sure I only picked his candidate. Hopefully this last one is more impressive than "Ward Zabac, insert life here."

Name: Squall Loire  
Alias: Squall Leonheart  
Age: 17  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume

This is the way I like things. A nice, thick docket full of all manner of random bits of information about a person's life. According to this, Squall Leonheart, born Squall Loire, was raised in an orphanage belonging to . . . The Chronicler and Sorceress Edea? How . . . unexpected. In fact, the docket goes on to say that, after the orphanage closed, Squall was taken by The Chronicler to dwell at Balamb Garden.

At Garden Squall grew from a child into a young man. His heart hardened as time went on though, for grievences perceived and forgotten. The man could not remember what plagued him, only that he was better off alone, that his unnamed plague could not injure others.

After years of training, Squall passed his SeeD exam, and, shortly thereafter found himself in the service of the Forest Owls of Timber, a resistance faction of some minor renown. Squall and his SeeD companions did their best to aide the Forest Owls in their ill-fated quest, and ultimately found themselves entangled in a plot to assassinate Sorceress Edea.

The plan went south, and Galbadia declared war on the world. The Sorceress, riding Galbadian Garden as though it were a mighty chariot, began her hunt for Balamb. This time came to a head when Squall, at Balamb's helm, directed the Garden into an assault on Galbadia's. The fighting was fierce, but in the end Balamb triumphed, and Edea was defeated.

It was only then that it was revealed that Edea had been a toy, used by Ultimecia to further her own ends. Squall gathered his team together, and in time they rose to the challenge, defeating Ultimecia, not in the future where she lived, nor in the present, where they lived, but in all times at once. The effects are still being studied by angels to this day.

In any case, it is always worth noting how many times someone triumphed over Chaos' champions. In this case, Squall defeated Ultimecia on three of five occasions. He failed to defeat Ultedea during the mission in Galbadia, but stopped her during the Garden Battle. He failed to stop Ultinoa aboard the Lunar Base, but subsequently defeated Ultadel inside the Lunatic Pandora. And, at the end, he defeated Ultimecia in her own Castle in all times at all moments forever.

Team Work: 5/10. Squall ought to score higher, given his excellence at leading an entire military force of teenagers to victory over a military of adults. This report, however, cannot overlook that in smaller groups, Squall tended to work worse, rather than better. It is possible he has grown past this, but the report nevertheless will consider him a coin-toss in terms of team work.

Lethality: 7/10. Squall's might drew heavily upon the beings known as Guardian Forces. Nevertheless, as summons have been permitted, there is no reason to believe he will be crippled in this way. Even so, he was a mere mortal. One with the finest military training his world could provide, but a mortal man nonetheless. He could not slice 6 powerful magi in a single blow, nor fly of his own volition, nor destroy cities with his own inherent energy. He was, however, a talented warrior, fierce enough that he did defeat 11 sorceresses from across time in one straight battle.

Faith: 10/10. Squall, no matter his personal beliefs, no matter the quandry, can be depended upon to A) never discover the nature of this conflict and thus B) never revolt against Cosmos. The docket makes it certain, stresses it, in fact, that as long as Squall believes this is his mission, he will carry it through. I worry, though, that if this is made more personal to him, we may have more problems.

Opposition: 8/10. Squall was fated to battle Ultimecia, destined almost. Because of the paradox caused by Ultimecia, and her effect on history, and Squall's own effects, the battle with Ultimecia was inescapable, unavoidable, an Endless Cycle. Interestingly, no alternate timelines are provided, almost as if to suggest that there is no way Squall and Ultimecia would not fight.


	9. Chapter 9

The rooftop of the Palace. The highest point on Le Palais d'Ordre. Here we stand, and things are almost as we left them. Chaos is gone, though, and Cosmos is seated on a simple stone chair. The roof remains as it was. Only within the Palace of Order are things out of control. This sight should be welcome, it is not.

"Welcome Orlandeau," says Cosmos, reverting to the form of Princess Sarah. "What brings you here?"

"I have come to take your Cids," answers Orlandeau, not even bothering to bow in the presence of this Goddess. "I carry orders from the Choir of Elohim to do so as soon as possible."

"What for?" asks the Goddess, frowning, her face becoming like that of a sad and confused child, her voice warm enough to melt most hearts.

"An insignificant purpose. A member of the Elohim desires that all Cids be counted."

"This is an unusual and badly timed request," says Sarah, "I am assaulted by Chaos himself, and your God demands I relinquish my champions? Should not Faram have sent me aid?"

"The Holy Father does not support this war, and will not be responsible for any part of it if he may help it."

"Strange, though, considering he let Chaos and I to his world."

"And you sowed the seeds which would destroy the Light of Kiltia. Faram does not forget, Cosmos. He will send aid only if he must."

"Then I will send these Cids from me only when it is convenient."

"Your song has no tune."

"Orlandeau, do you dare insult a Goddess to her face?"

"I speak no insults, only truth. Your song has no tune. By order of the Choir of Elohim, I may take these Cids with or without your permission. I may not, however, remove them without their own permission. They have refused to withdraw until their work is done, and so they stay, but at their word, and not your own."

"As you wish. I make no move save it be at the whim of the Highest, long ago did I learn that even Gods may be slaves."

"So sayest thou," say Orlandeau, reaching into his cloak. He withdraws the docket and hands it to the lady, "This is the champion of Minerva, as chosen by you counsel of Cids."

Cosmos takes the docket, opens it, and turns to a seraph to her right. The seraph bows her head, turns, manifests her wings, and flys off with the docket in tow.

"If I might interrupt," I say, "I am also finished with the Champion from The Great Hyne."

"You?" Cosmos asks, "Alone, without your counsel?"

"I know not how many stand free of Chaos, so I must press on alone. They would have done so had they made it here in my place."

"How . . . prompt." Cosmos takes the docket I offer her, thumbs through the pages, my thoughts and scores on these individuals, then turns to another seraph and sends him off with the docket. "You are . . . in luck, Scholar. It so happens that I have the ninth docket with me now."

"Then you will not mind relinquishing it?" comes a voice from behind us. The assembly turns, and there stands Garland once more. "Accept fate Cosmos, understand that together you and I do naught but carve a path of death and destruction. It was our lot to fill the Heavens with our joy, our happiness, not that we should always stand as a testament to war!"

"See how your tyranny has tortured the many, how your maddening and mislead concept of "Order" has caused so many pains," says the Emperor, "Let this be your Final Fantasy, this Conflict of Views, then cast off illusion and see Order for what it truly is."

"Understand that nothing lasts forever," the Cloud of Darkness says, "Relinquish your childish grasp on the light; see what awaits in the embrace of darkness."

"We stand now with Chaos to change our destinies, to defy The Gods," says Golbez, "Your own fate is cruel as well. Join us Lady, see how desire and reward can coincide."

"Welcome this change, Cosmos. Relax your grip, realize that things need not always be as they are, that Eternity and progression are one and the same," Ex-Death continues.

"Then," Kefka says, "Then realize the greatest joke of all: That Eternity cannot last forever, that that which is can never be endangered is the most fragile of all things."

"Abandon your reasons," Sephiroth adds, "abandon even your heart. Give over to the cravings of your flesh, revel in that which you are."

"And then break free of the Endless Cycle," says Ultimecia, emerging from the midst of the others, "burst forth into naked darkness and dance in the rains of emptiness."

"But please," comes another voice from within the throng, "Please don't forget to take your final bow."

Kuja steps out from behind Ultimecia, smiling and even bothering to wave at an angel or two. He laughs, twists his head side to side, and speaks again, "What a prologue, wouldn't you agree? Just moments ago my castmates here were begging you to help us, to save us from our fates. And now, little Cid, we don't even need you alive. You are a nuisance, better broken than healed. Would you like to know why?"

"Given that The Liar wasn't cutting it for you, I'm guessing Chaos decided to just go with the eight of you."

"Haw! Listen to this guy! Ramblin' on like he knows shtuff!" The crowd parts, and from the midst stumbles a man I had not expected to see. He is a great bear of a man, the size of Garland, almost, though his body is unarmored. His manner of walking is of interest, as well, since I was not aware that angels could be inebriated.

"Jecht? You picked Jecht? The Liar really isn't doing his job . . ."

"Bring out the weak one!" Garland roars. There is more shuffling, and a man is thrown to the ground before me. I recognize this man, this being who once worked with me, this man who was once an Angel, who was a member of my Counsel.

"Cidolfas Demen Bunansa," I say, "The Doctor. Oh how far you have fallen. Even the Devil himself now rejects you."

"Silence!" The Liar spits, getting to his feet, "shut up! Just shut up! You think you are so good, you pompous Would-Be-God! Look at you, loathing the very Gods you slave for, you used to stand for something Previa. You used to believe what you did was right. You're as sham now, as empty, hollow, and meaningless as the rest of this farce!"

"How odd," I say, looking at him, "You left when I lost my faith, and here we stand, I regaining mine, and you now losing yours. What a terrible pity."

"I tire of this," Garland says, "If you see a Cid, kill it. Break this palace to the ground. Leave only Cosmos standing."

The demons fan out, and at this same time the Cids drop their cloaks that they can battle more freely. Seeing my chance, I turn now and run. I would bid farewell to Orlandeau, but I know this is not the last time I shall see him. Living he was capable of leveling armies, dead, Orlandeau's might is unrivaled by all save the Gods. His faith is such that entire Circles of Hell live more in fear of him than their own punishments.

Glancing back, I see that I am pursued. The Liar comes after me. So it has come to this, it would seem. Now that all things have lead us back together, it must be only natural that we fight. But I will not yet turn to face this foe. I must find sanctuary. The ninth dockets are in my hands, and now that Jecht has been revealed, I must hasten that I might reach the tenth and final dockets. Soon, so very soon this will end.

I think more often, now, of my family. I have not seen them in so long. How I miss my grandson. What does Mid think of me, after all this time? Would he be glad to see his grandfather still, or will he turn away from me, his heart hardened by the stiffness of my neck?

I have not even seen my wife since I died. I wonder where she is now? Our marriage still stands on record, but it has been so very long since we have seen each other. I miss her almost enough that it hurts. I have been alone so very long. Haven't I? No, I guess I have not. My companions have always been with me.

I hope to The Highest that they are alright. If any of them has been injured I will never forgive myself. I already curse the day I took this job, I do not want to know that it ultimately cost the ever-lasting soul of a friend. Though I suppose, on the greater scale of things, it already has.

"You cannot run from me forever!" roars The Liar, "I am a part of you, Scholar! You made me! I am your past! And you know what they say of your past! The more you run from it, the faster it catches up to you!"

"Funny!" I shout back, "Because it looks to me like you're beginning to slow down!"

"Just you wait! This won't end until one of us ends it, Scholar! This comes down to you, and to me!"

"Don't delude yourself, Liar! You and I are the Ramza and Algus of this tale, not the Ashe and Vayne!"

"Nevertheless, here we end this!"

"Yes, this conversation ends here," I say, finding a doorway and running into the room beyond. I lock the door and prop the furniture in the room against it. Though The Liar stands beyond, shouting in anger and fury, I simply open the dockets and take a seat by the opposite door. The time for work has come again.

Letter from Buremece, God spec. Memory, to Cosmos, Goddess spec. Order:

_Cosmos. I know not what to say. Only just have I learned that Kuja has been raised, and, as I check now, I have discovered a horrible truth: The Cleft's Cells have sprung open. That place on the edge of the Void where many terrible beings have been imprisoned was opened just this morning. Chaos gave his agent, The Liar, free run of them, to choose any he might like._

It gets worse: things crawled up out of the Void, and, others, hearing of the gathering, arrived seeking to make Chaos their liege. Is it true? That Chaos is gathering Crystals? What could be his purpose? To change his fate, I suppose, but surely Chaos does not presume to gather all the Crystals the two of you lost and use them to defy the Choir of Elohim?

I do not see the meaning in these things, but my sleep is troubled by all of this. Even I, who remember all, do not know where Chaos is going with this. I send three names to you, Cosmos, to strike against Kuja. Be warned: Kuja may not have broken the laws of Heaven, but he was able to manipulate the laws and very nearly destroyed all the worlds of my realm. His carelessness attracted Necron, one of they whom The Highest condemned to wander from world to world.

I send you these children in the hopes that you are doing the right thing. I recall so much, yet I cannot seem to recall what choice is right anymore . . . The names I send you are these: Zidane and Mikoto Tribal, and Garnet Til Alexandros. Care for them, Cosmos. I dare not consider what would happen to these children in the wrong hands.

Name: Sarah of Madain  
Alias: Princess Garnet Til Alexandros XVII  
Alias: Dagger  
Age: 16  
Sex: Female  
Species: Summoner

Another Summoner? I suppose it's not so bad a calling. The power to summon beings ranging from the simple to the divine to the fiendish is one that would indeed be worth having. Nonetheless, I am not even certain how Summoning will work in this war. Not a single Summoner has yet been selected by either side, so I feel it likely Summons will be open to all.

Eidolons in Garnet's world are an especially powerful force. They were so mighty that even Garland, who was mightier than Kuja, feared them above all else. Though he proved in the end able to thwart them for the most part, that one such as "Garland" was afraid of this power speaks in the Princess' favor. (The Report wishes to distinguish between Garland, physical embodiment and avatar of Chaos and GARLAND, The Genomic Artificial Restoration of Life, Art, kNowledge and Data project, a construct of the Terrans before their fall.)

Garnet was Queen of Alexandria by the age of 17, and all the days of her life the nation prospered. Though, historically speaking, Queen Garnet's reign saw the greatest decrease in lands ruled by the Alexandrian Empire, this is only because during the reign of her mother, Queen Brahne, the Alexandrian Empire conquered much of the world, and, inasmuch as world domination may ever be right or wrong, Garnet saw this as wrong and ceded many of the lands back to their original rulers.

During the Razing of Alexandria, Garnet actually defeated Kuja, driving back his Eidolon by summoning one of her own. Calling upon Alexander to defeat Bahamut seemed as though it would save the day. In reality, it also called down the wrath of the Invincible.

Nevertheless, Garnet is awarded the following:

Team Work: 6/10. Garnet was a bit of a free spirit, and being an excellent politician really is of little use in the coming war. However, it is worth noting that she never had any major quarrels with any team member. The docket places importance on this because of members like Quina, who were extremely . . . different.

Faith: 5/10. It's fair to say that Garnet has a vested interest in the history and sanctity of her world. Neverthelesss, she was a willful woman, and would not stand idly by, knowing that the war itself was two things at once. Therefore we would again, have to bank upon her gullibility. Which is something I ought to address but won't.

Lethality: 6/10. While Garnet's Summons were especially potent, I have already addressed my fears on that subject. That said, her own personal magic type was white, and while there is a useful white magic spell or two for combat (Holy and Harm come to mind), other white magic spells, such as Reraise and Regen are only so useful.

Opposition: 6/10. Garnet is perhaps the best person from her world to oppose Kuja. He manipulated her mother, killed her, and razed her homeland. Kuja is also the creation of Garland, who was responsible for the deaths of Garnet's race. However, there are those who oppose Kuja far better than Garnet.

Name: Mikoto  
Age: 15  
Sex: Female  
Species: Genome

Mikoto's story may be considered a sad one. She is one of a very few Genomes who were granted souls. Many of her people were slaughtered by Kuja's hand, and, lacking souls, The Gods were suddenly faced with a dillema. Here were intelligences lacking that last spark to grant them eternal salvation. They were now among the many higher machines, who also were a part of Heaven's great controversy.

Ultimately The Gods decided the Genomes would be granted that final spark, and they would validate these children of Terra. So, too, did they grant it to the Black Mages of Terra, giving these souls hope of lasting on, of living at last after life had come to an end.

But I digress. Mikoto was the final product of the Genome Project. She was, so to speak, the Ultimate Genome, the end result of her species. She was raised in Bran Bal alongside the other Genomes and prepared for the day she would descend upon Gaia and realize the hopes of Terra.

Mikoto was the fail safe, the Hope of Terra. Should Zidane fail as Kuja failed, she would be sent to complete the mission. Yet, as Garland discovered, giving Mikoto a will proved that she would never be his to control, either. Mikoto sided with Zidane and notified the people of Gaia to the assault on Memoria.

Interestingly, Mikoto never actually saw any combat, and much of her power is latent. She never tranced, and was never put to the same tests Zidane and Kuja were. It is hard to gauge her combat prowess, though the docket makes it clear she was the best of the Genomes, not the worst.

Team Work: 4/10. It's really hard to say. Mikoto was never intended to work on a team, and she never really did. She did manage to persuade others into action on several instances, but the way those moments played out it's possible those people only needed a slight push anyway.

Lethality: ?/10. I cannot gauge this woman's combat prowess. Never in her entire life did she enter into battle. I do not know, and I cannot know. I wish I could, but I can't.

Faith: 3/10. As a Genome, Mikoto never was allowed to think much for herself. When at last she was given an opportunity to do so, the very first thing she did was turn against Garland. Betrayal as a reaction to having freedom is an undesirable quality, and I do not think we would have use for it.

Opposition: 7/10. Mikoto is scored one point higher than Garnet because of her close relationship to Kuja. Being his sister, she might feel compelled to stop him. It is, after all, her destiny to stand against Kuja if called upon to do so.

Name: Zidane Tribal  
Age: 16  
Sex: Male  
Species: Genome

Ah, Zidane. Now here is a name I recognize. The debates over the minds of the Genomes and their futures was attended by Zidane, as I myself also attended. Zidane argued for the Genomes, and it was his words which ultimately saved their kind. Zidane is one of a few people who have been to Memoria, and possibly the one of the only mortals to ever breach what is left of the Crystal World.

While Kuja may be viewed as model 00 of the Angel of Death line of Genomes, and thus Prototype, Zidane was model 01, the Test Type, and Mikoto was model 02, the Production type. Zidane was an experimental improvement upon Kuja's design, and while factors of him were refined in the designing of Mikoto, some parts were also removed, deemed too dangerous.

Zidane was capable of trance, a thing Kuja struggled to achieve, and which ultimately hastened his death. Tribal could trance time and again, however, without any serious draw back. Of the three Angel of Death Units created by the Garland Project, Zidane was the only one capable of such a feat, at least according to the actual dockets.

An interesting point is here listed: Mikoto could withstand blasts of Ultima from Kuja, when Zidane could not. In fact, Zidane was defeated by Kuja's Ultima several times. Nor, truthfully, did he ever defeat Kuja once and for all.

However, Zidane DID stop the Necrophobe on an edge of The Void. This is a feat worth mentioning, because the Necrophobe is, in ways, not unlike Chaos. He was a part of Ex-Death's company in that last effort to tear open The Void, and so he, like Gilgamesh, has been made to wander from world to world, never to rest until all Gods sing their names. Necrophobe has moved much more slowly than Gilgamesh, but his efforts paid off, almost bringing him to The Crystal World.

It's interesting, really. Zidane has, in a way, already finished this war for Cosmos. He has been to the Crystal World, committed that Sin of Cosmos (battling within the Crystal World), defeated his foe, and never took the Crystal and used it for his own. With that in mind, Zidane is so scored:

Team Work: 8/10. Though he was never intended to work in a team, Zidane did, in fact, do that for a great length of time. He was a member of the Tantalus Thieves' Guild, which allowed him the freedom he needed but also allowed him to work with others. After that he was a member of a typical rag-tag team of adventurers out to save the world. In fact, Zidane's ability to work so well with these others is what earns him this score.

Lethality: 9/10. Zidane was intended to wreak havoc and chaos across the face of Gaia, and he was equipped to do so. While his companions were capable of trance just as he was, Zidane's trance pushed his mind and body harder than those of his company. In addition to this, his body was incredibly more agile than others', being able to dodge attacks with great speed and accuracy. His speed, in fact, may have been his greatest non-magical skill.

Faith: 8/10. Zidane has already proven his willingness to ignore the temptations of Crystals and defeat Kuja. Granted there was no grand subplot at that time, so I leave a margin of 2 points for the chance that, upon discovering he can change history and at once change nothing, Zidane may abandon the quest. Still, for a thief such as he to IGNORE the greatest treasure in the world speaks highly to his credit.

Opposition: 10/10. Zidane was always Kuja's nemesis. Though Kuja loathed Garland more, and spent more of his time fighting Garland, it was Zidane which seemed to start all of that. It was the discovery of Zidane which caused Kuja to turn on Garland, and it was the discovery that Zidane would out live him which spurred Kuja to end all things. Kuja was, in all ways, opposed to Zidane, and Zidane, so long as Kuja opposed him, would continue to fight back.

I'll go with Zidane. Seems like a smart choice. Garnet's a summoner, and while Summoners are powerful, anyone can summon in this war. I don't know a thing about Mikoto, but at least I know about Zidane. So Zidane it is. He'll be the champion.


	10. Chapter 10

It's silent outside the door. Good. I don't care where The Liar is. I gather my papers, get up, and run out the other doorway. There are stairs beyond. Once at the top, I run across the hall. Here another door, another chamber. Within are more stairs still. Fine. I'm almost running aimlessly. I don't know where to go or what to do anymore. I have to get these to Cosmos, but after that? After that I don't know.

The stairs have lead me to a grand balcony on the back of the Palace. There is a veil over the edge of the balcony, obscuring the view of the lands beyond. Behind me are rows of seats rising upward. An amphitheatre. And there, on the edge of the balcony, staring out at the veil is The Liar.

I turn around, but the stairs behind me have vanished. I am trapped here. And so I accept this challenge. If the time has come to face The Liar, then face him I shall. I sigh and remove my cloak. I wrap the dockets in it and place it on one of the lower seats, then advance toward this friend of mine.

"Ah," says the Liar. "You have come."

"Not of my own wish. I have no interest in this fight."

"Then indulge your old friend, because I have wanted this for a very, very long time."

"So it would seem. The question is . . . why? Why sell yourself to demons, jeopardize your everlasting soul, forfeit all . . . just to fight me?"

"You are so pompous! So full of yourself! You think I did all of this just to get at you? Don't be a fool, Previa. I joined Chaos because he's RIGHT. This, though . . . this is something else."

"What? This is madness, that's all I see."

"Look at you, Cid. I spent my LIFE fighting against things like you. Fallen angels that played at being Gods. Beings who strove to manipulate the lives of men. Yet you are worse than any Occuria ever was, for you play not with the lives of men, but with their souls."

"I do only as The Gods ask. Make your point."

"You claim to know enough about the art of war that you wager souls and histories on that bet. But have you ever tasted battle, Previa? Do you know the first thing about winning a fight?"

"Is that all this is? A test? I have no time for tests, Bunansa. I have a war to start."

"This is no test," The Liar says, a wreath of swords materializing around him. "This is a battle of wills, Previa. Our very own Dissidia. Your view versus mine. I wonder, now, after all the dissidias you have resolved over the ages, can you ever hope to resolve your own?"

The Liar's swords fly away from him in a flurry of steel and anger. Seeing the silver lightning streak toward me, I dive into the seats of the amphitheatre, narrowly avoiding getting skewered. The blades strike the stones around me, withdraw and return to their wielder.

He has a point, I know. All this time I've pitted man against man, wagering soul after soul, and never once have I really bothered to learn how to fight. Sure, I know how fighting _works_, goodness knows I understand all of this in theory, but the practice? That still escapes me.

Getting to my feet, I narrowly avoid another Sword Rain. I take off running as The Liar's laughter echoes throughout the amphitheatre.

"Give up, Previa! You're not even armed! That you carry no sword is proof enough! You don't know the first **THING** about war! I am the better Cid! It's not fair that I was cast out and you weren't! Do you hear me, Previa!? IT'S NOT FAIR!!!"

The blades fly in a straight line this time, exploding around me in an attempt to catch me as I dodge. Luckily, being frozen with fear has worked to my advantage. The swords fly back again and I try and run up the seats to the rooftop. Surely someone is there?

"Going somewhere, Previa!?" shouts The Liar, suddenly appearing before me. "Only one of us is leaving this balcony, Scholar."

"Fine. You stay here forever. I've an afterlife to get on with."

"Jokes will not save you now, my master!" the swords swirl around the Liar, then fly at me. One catches my arm, igniting a flare of pain and sending me falling back down the amphitheatre toward the balcony. The blade dislodges, and a moment later I am struck in the back by The Liar's foot, he having teleported behind me.

My body had almost forgotten what pain was like. I cannot decide if this is good for me or not. Is a man whole if he feels no pain? Men go for years without even the least amount of pain. Indeed, much of life is lived without it. Yet pain is still a part of existing, isn't it? One must know pain to know pleasure. How can you love the light if you do not know the darkness? What is love like without hate? Maybe we're right, maybe there has been a corruption.

"Come now, my old teacher, do not lie so still. We've a long way to go before you are damned." The blades rise above me, and all plunge at once. But as they fall I strike at the legs of The Liar, sending him falling backwards onto one of his own blades. He falls downward and, sensing a change in their master's position, the swords come following after.

I grab one as it flies by though, and the sword seems to shudder at first under my touch. But it soon bends to my will. "One thing has become clear to me," I say as The Liar dislodges a sword from his bowels, "I am tired of running away, and I am tired of getting my ass kicked."

Bringing the blade forward, I call out, "You want a fight, Liar? Come and get some."

The Liar's swords fly forth again, and as they do so, he vanishes once more. This time I am ready, though. He bursts into existence behind me as his blades rush forth, I drop down, letting the swords fly past. I am too slow, though, and the swords yield once more to him. I roll to my right and jump back to my feet. It's time to put my knowledge to the test.

Our blades meet in a flash, and their cries ring out amidst the thunder and lightning. Someone has summoned a storm, it would seem. The rains begin to fall around us, making slick the stones, and unsafe the higher parts of the amphitheatre. The remaining five blades of The Liar increase in rapidity and force. It is becoming increasingly difficult to deflect them.

"Would you like to know the reason I chose six swords?" calls The Liar over a bolt of lightning. "It's simple, really. Pollendina, Previa, Marquez, Kramer, Margrace and Bunansa are their names. Would you like to guess what they represent!!?" All five of The Liar's blades draw back and beat against mine in one blow. My arms seem to fail me for a moment, but then the swords draw back. They seem to have a limited length of time they can remain away from him for.

"Is it any wonder," The Liar says, using his blades as stairs to aide him in jumping some greater height, "That in some languages, the word Cid means Sword? Or that the name of The Highest is Cid as well?" He grabs the Kramer and jumps downward, bringing all of his weight into the blow. My arm gives way, but the blade misses the mark.

"Here's an interesting note for you: Did you know that every Cid who joins a Counsel is given a title? And you in your arrogance believed it was some trademark of yours! No, no, Scholar, have you never even thought about it? The Highest is a Cid! The Scholar is a Cid! And you see no greater connection here!?"

"As I have said before, I see nothing but madness here, Liar. I have not seen reason issued from your lips in ages."

"Then see it now! Chaos and Cosmos believe theirs is the greatest of Endless Cycles, but verily I say unto you: This is not the case! There stands a greater Endless Cycle still! The Cycle of Cids! We Cids are meant for greater things than the average man, Scholar! The God of the Gods of Gods is one of our number, and after this, one of us shall become the lowest of all Cids! Forever we will march on, enslaved by our own greatness!"

"Funny; I can't say I see what's so great about you!"

"See?" Asks The Liar, "You have been on the defensive this entire time. You don't know the first thing about striking, do you? Your talents with a blade are depressing, my master."

"Cut me some slack, junior. If you'd like me to stop going easy on you . . ."

The Liar is typically tickled by my display of arrogance. He throws back his head to laugh, to mock, and in doing so makes two very simple mistakes: he takes his eyes off the enemy and exposes his throat. A pity I've no knives nor training in ninjitsu.

Nevertheless, I charge and strike. My sword comes but inches away from The Liar's neck when his blades cross before it to form a shield. I step back quickly as they shape into a fan and swipe in an attempt to slice me in twain. As they miss I leap onto the blades and strike at my old friend again. This time he vanishes and his swords chase him to his new position.

"Very good, Previa! Perhaps you're not as bad at the art of the blade as I had thought."

"Yet you remain as stupid as ever. You've read Sephiroth's docket. Are you so unwilling to learn from his mistakes?"

"I fail to see how I can. You are no Cloud Strife, Scholar. Your best weapon is a book and your most well known for your white hair and garish red robes. A bad ass you are not."

"Granted, but a Knight-Class you never were, Liar. Nor, for that matter, were you much of a mage, according to your docket. How much longer do you think you can possibly maintain whatever power you are stealing now?"

"Stealing!? Again with your arrogance. No Cid could possibly be BETTER than you, could he? So I must be STEALING!? This power is my ANGER! My hatred! This is me, destroying you!" The Liar raises his arms and several more blades appear. Undoubtedly these are the Secondus, Haze, Highwind, Fabool, Randell and Orlandeau. It would seem my old friend is truly set on winning. A shame that I must rob him of that, too.

"It's high time this come to an end!" shouts The Liar, his eleven swords swarming outward at me. What I would not give to have a shield! Taking a deep breath, I run forward, striking at every sword that comes near me. The blades, I know, having been batted away, are gathering behind me. But I have just one shot anyway.

"Ready to give in?" taunts The Liar, "To admit defeat? Can you? Are you even capable of such a thing? I doubt it very much." Mere feet from The Liar I dive to the ground. His blades return to shield him from what he must have expected was a frontal assault. I roll out of the dive and come to a standing position behind him.

Back to back the battle ends, my blade driven through his chest. "Doctor," I say, "What shall I tell your son? What do I say to your Mid? Do you remember the promise?"

"P-promise . . ." chokes out the Liar, blood in his voice. "The Oath . . ."

"Yes. What should I tell your son?"

"Tell him . . . nothing. He lost his father long ago."

"Then have you nothing else to say?"

"Before I am damned for time and all eternity? No . . . ironic, isn't it? That I, of all Cids, should be bereft of a speech at a time like this?"

"Farewell, Cidolfas Demen Bunansa."

"Farewell, Cid Previa."

I draw the blade from my friend, and with one last cry, he falls to his knees. I have only seen one angel Fall before, and it was no one I knew. This is . . . so much worse than watching a man die. His wings burst from behind his back, and for a moment they remain outstretched. Then they burst into flame, and he begins to scream. His halo is next to appear, that aura of light. It burns red as his flaming wings, and then wreathes his skull. Last is his voice. The music of his soul begins to play, but breaks into a dischord of screams.

The fire forces him upward, and he turns to face me. A moment he stands there, flaming, and then the fires stop. Burnt and ruined are his wings. Blackened and charred his face, and hoarse and ill his voice. Then, even this is gone, his body turned to dust, washed away in the rain. At any moment he will awaken in some Circle of Hell or another, and his suffering will begin.

Darkness . . . all is darkness . . . so serene, the Void sounds. The ashes are washed away now, the Rains of Heaven denying even that much proof that Cidolfas Demen Bunansa was ever an angel. Yet he was. My friend once, my companion, most trusted of my counsel. For a long time we six wandered the Heavens, drifting from God to God, doing the work we thought we loved. Resolving conflicts.

But along the way I grew sour. I spent so long staring into the light, seeing the Gods war amongst each other, that I lost my self, I became blind, and I could never see what was coming. I sowed the seeds of our ending, and I reaped the first fruit of that wretched crop so long ago.

It was the duty, that day, of The Doctor to lead our group in it's discussion of warriors for another God's war. All seemed to go well. Our discussion was no more heated than normal, and we all reached a more or less unanimous decision. Or so it seemed.

The Doctor, it happened, had deceived us all, and taken a different Champion to this God. His intent was always to leave us that day. He had seen what I myself was not yet ready to admit: That we had grown as cynical as the Gods I so derided. He hoped to escape what he thought was our imminent demise as a group, and so took this name and presented it on his own.

That God lost it's war, and my Counsel was held responsible. When at last I understood what exactly had happened, I myself cast The Doctor from our presence. I called him a liar, and the name seemed to have stuck from that moment onward. He left us in shame, rather than rising above us. He was the member of a group of failures who had been deemed unacceptable even there.

Who, then, can I blame for this but myself? Whose fault is this, if not my own? Had I never cast him from us, The Doctor's soul would never have been damned. Had I never cast him from us, Kefka would not now be among the waking. Oh Gods, is there any sin here committed which is not in some way my own? What have I done?

"Scholar!" a voice calls . . . I cannot remember whose.

"Scholar!" The Chronicler shouts, shaking me back into reality.

"Oh," I say, "Chronicler, where have you been?"

"We've been looking for you."

"We?"

"Yes, we!" I look past The Chronicler to see The Messenger, The Wanderer, The Engineer, and The Warrior of Light standing at the other end of the balcony. They are smiling . . . well, except the Warrior, who seems rather pensieve. How can they smile? Don't they know . . . ?

"What has happened here?" The Messenger asks, "Where did all these swords come from?"

"The Liar," I say, getting to my feet. "We fought. I'm afraid . . . he's gone now."

Each Cid in turn bows his head, and all are silent a moment. What can they say? A friend has been damned forever here. And, unlike death, there is little hope of reunion. I began this Ministry believing that these wars did not matter. I am beginning to see otherwise.

"We have . . . good news and bad news, Scholar." says The Chronicler. "Which would you hear first?"

"I have had my fill of bad news," I say, "give me the good."

"The tenth dockets be in the Palace!" says The Engineer. "An' The Warrior 'ere'll take yer dockets to The Lady!"

"That is good news," I say, directing the Warrior to where the docket lays, still wrapped in my cloak. "What's the bad?"

"We don't have the last dockets . . . Mateus and the others do."

Ah, so here we are, then? In order to seal my sin, I must first face the sins I have already committed. Before I can unleash one last danger in the Heavens, I must confront those sins I indirectly awoke. Absolutely marvelous. Just the way to finish a day.

"Gentlemen," I say, "We are not fighters. We are not warriors. We cannot hope to defeat The Ten on our own. But we must have those dockets, and we must finish this job. We have never failed to complete a ministry, and we will not do so now." I wave my arm toward the blades, "So pick a sword, any sword, and stick your courage to the screwing place. The time has come to show Heaven and Hell that the name Cid does not just mean The Guy Who Made The Airship."

"Finally," Says The Wanderer, "ages beyond counting have I travelled with you lot, and only now do we get to kick some ass?"

"Since you've lost count," The Messenger says, "would you prefer we just keep waiting?"

"Scholar!" The Chronicler shouts, shaking me back into reality.

"Oh," I say, "Chronicler, where have you been?"

"We've been looking for you."

"We?"

"Yes, we!" I look past The Chronicler to see The Messenger, The Wanderer, The Engineer, and The Warrior of Light standing at the other end of the balcony. They are smiling . . . well, except the Warrior, who seems rather pensieve. How can they smile? Don't they know . . . ?

"What has happened here?" The Messenger asks, "Where did all these swords come from?"

"The Liar," I say, getting to my feet. "We fought. I'm afraid . . . he's gone now."

Each Cid in turn bows his head, and all are silent a moment. What can they say? A friend has been damned forever here. And, unlike death, there is little hope of reunion. I began this Ministry believing that these wars did not matter. I am beginning to see otherwise.

"We have . . . good news and bad news, Scholar." says The Chronicler. "Which would you hear first?"

"I have had my fill of bad news," I say, "give me the good."

"The tenth dockets be in the Palace!" says The Engineer. "An' The Warrior 'ere'll take yer dockets to The Lady!"

"That is good news," I say, directing the Warrior to where the docket lays, still wrapped in my cloak. "What's the bad?"

"We don't have the last dockets . . . Mateus and the others do."

Ah, so here we are, then? In order to seal my sin, I must first face the sins I have already committed. Before I can unleash one last danger in the Heavens, I must confront those sins I indirectly awoke. Absolutely marvelous. Just the way to finish a day.

"Gentlemen," I say, "We are not fighters. We are not warriors. We cannot hope to defeat The Ten on our own. But we must have those dockets, and we must finish this job. We have never failed to complete a ministry, and we will not do so now." I wave my arm toward the blades, "So pick a sword, any sword, and stick your courage to the screwing place. The time has come to show Heaven and Hell that the name Cid does not just mean The Guy Who Made The Airship."

"Finally," Says The Wanderer, "ages beyond counting have I travelled with you lot, and only now do we get to kick some ass?"

"Since you've lost count," The Messenger says, "would you prefer we just keep waiting?"

We bid farewell to the Warrior, who heads off in search of the Goddess. He does not seem exactly excited by this quest, but I can't blame him. He's just discovered that his life has been a total lie. And his afterlife. And soon, I am afraid, he won't even remember his afterlife. Yet another sin of mine, I am afraid.

Making our way toward the basement, where the others claim The Ten are, we size up our situation. Things look bleak. We five are Cids, thinkers, lovers, poets, builders. We are the arts and crafts kids, and we are about to go up against the kids who loved swords and guns in school. The enemy will throw their might against us, and thus we must depend solely upon our wits.

"What do we do when we get a docket?" Asks The Messenger.

"Get it to me, and then cover me. I'll score it and we'll get it signed afterward."

"Shouldn't we all score it?"

"No," The Chronicler says, "No, we have no time for that. The end is too near now. We have to focus on just getting it scored and signed and into Cosmos' hands."

After this there is quiet again. We march ever nearer to the battle, yet none of us are entirely certain how we can hope to escape unscathed. We've read these dockets, though, so maybe we can play to the weaknesses of the villains and get our last piece?

The Grand Cellar opens before us, a realm which stretches out beneath the plains surrounding The Palace of Order. Darkness seems to fill the area, with just faint lights here and there. The foe has chosen wisely, I see. But we have come this far, we cannot turn back now.

"Welcome, Cids!" calls the voice of Mateus. "You seek a tenth hero to uphold the madness of Cosmos? Then enter, and see if you have what it takes."

"Beware the choice you make," Ultimecia says, "for there is no mercy where you seek to go."

"Know this," The Cloud of Darkness calls, "There are worse things yet to come."

"Oh, let's not discourage them" Kuja taunts, "I'd rather like to see how they perform . . ."

"All of this," says Sephiroth, "Will end in sorrow, no matter the victor."

"See the blades they wield?" Kefka asks, "What do you suppose is funnier? Knowing The Liar has been damned, or seeing a pack of armed Cids?"

"Do you intend to fight us?" Golbez' voice demands, his presence terribly near, "Knowing we are your betters?"

"Or do you offer us blades?" Ex-Death creaks, like a tree snapping in twain, "Thinking we can be so easily bought off?"

"Do you think it matters what some paper says?" Jecht roars, a flame illuminating his presence, far off in the distance, "You will make the choice we know you will make. At this point, there is no hope of being free of us!"

"Okay, guys," I say as we advance, "Anybody have a light?"

"Yeah, I have one," says a voice from behind. We turn as one and stare into the face of Kefka. "Pretty soon, I'll have five more. How 'bout that?" Five flames appear in Kefka's hands, and without even warning, he flings them at us. The five of us duck into the shadows, narrowly avoiding immolation.

"Well now what?" The Wanderer asks, "they number us twice. We cannot hope to win with these odds."

"We jes need ter think on i'," says The Engineer. "Li', wha're these machines down 'ere? 'ow can they be used ter ar advannage?"

"Okay then. There are what," I shout for the enemy to here, "Hey Golbez, how many of those dockets do you guys have?"

A pause as the villains consider, and then, "Three. Just three." followed by a groan from Kuja. Good. Evil as he might be, Golbez is still an honest man. There's a kink in the armor, if ever I saw one. The problem, of course, is what kind of knife to stick in there.

"Okay, so they've got three dockets. There are nine of them, and five of us. Unless Garland is down here, too, and then we'll have some problems. We could split up, or we could stick together. You guys call it."

"Oh, hell," The Chronicler says, "This is the craziest thing we've ever done. I'll take Ultimecia and Mateus."

"Give me Kefka and Sephiroth, then," The Wanderer says, "Not that they can handle me, of course."

"I'll go for Kuja and Cloud, I guess," The Messenger puts in.

"Then I'll take Golbez an' Ex-Death."

"And I'll confront Jecht. I'd like a word with him anyway."

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Cids!" Mateus shouts, "Otherwise we might just have to burn some dockets."

"See there, Ultimecia, my darling. The man who ordered your death."

"Komforting as that should be, Mateus, I understand many men ordered my death. It is the way of men: they fear women, our power and beauty. It drives them to rape, murder and destroy us. Such is the way of you men."

"Rape? Murder? I suppose. Destroy beauty? My darling, I don't see why rape and murder can't be beautiful as well."

"How you manage to see," The Chronicler interjects, "is beyond me."

I have lied to my team. I figure I've committed enough sins as it is, what's one more? I've got to run fast, but I'm going to be there as quick as possible when they find the villains. The Liar managed to teleport, maybe I can find a way to do that, too?

"How kuaint. Do you think you kan stop me, little Cid?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say he's little. Rather meaty, if you ask me."

"Ha! I'd rather be out of shape than look as bad as either of you! Who does style's your hair, Ultimecia, a Flan Princess? And you, Mateus, here's a hint as well: horns might look cool on Garland, but on you they look cheap and bland. And the nails? I mean come on, are you an Emperor or an Emperess?"

Good choice, Chronicler. Use their vanity against them. I'd have thought maybe it'd work best on Kuja, but then again, who can say? So far, these two look sufficiently nettled.

"What did you say? An Empress?"

"Sorry, did I say that? I forgot that you don't have a throne. I mean look at you! You're playing second fiddle to GARLAND of all people!"

"Do not listen to this worm, Mateus. He is trying to make us angry. Well it won't work on me, disgusting man!"

"Nothing ever works on you, my dear. That's why your the cold, barren freak you are today. You reached inside a young man's head and the best you could draw out was an imaginary friend! And not even a human one!"

"Shut up! I have no need for men to satisfy me!"

"Oh, well, I rather imagine you'd say that. Women love you so much they jump out airlocks for you. The only Sorceress you ever managed to bend to your will looked so much like a man that even after death, nobody was sure how to adress her!"

"QUIET!" Ultimecia raises her hands and fires forth several charges of Blizzaga. Amazingly, The Chronicler avoids. He hasn't even used his sword yet and these villains seem to be losing themselves!

"What a crude little man," Mateus laughs, idly twirling his scepter. "To think you could upset us so. Ultimecia, my pet, please, relax. Let peace sooth your soul. Look at this man. He's a Cid, my love. How many of them have ever amounted to anything? Did you know, Chronicler, that where I am from, I KILLED MY CID!?"

"Very impressive. I read you had to use an entire tornado to do it, though. I also heard you lost to Firion twice. Can you imagine? You sucked so bad, he had to kill you again. Why did you hold back in those battles? Where you afraid you'd crack a french tip or something?"

"Is this all you kan muster, Kronikler? Petty insults? Why don't you use that sword?"

"Is that all you can think of, Ultimecia? Combat? You afraid you can't match wits with a man? Speaking of which, what's all this about you two being an item? Come on now, Ultimecia, you can tell ol' Cid. It's cuz Mateus looks like a woman, innit?"

"THAT'S IT! YOU ARE DEAD!"

"Congratulations, Emperess of Nowhere! I am indeed dead, and have been for some time!"

Ultimecia tries to freeze time, only to realize that, given the four-dimensional nature of Eternity, Time Magic does not work well. Enraged, she fires a few more rounds of Flare with hopes of catching The Chronicler. Explosion after explosion seem to rock the area. Mateus summons a few comets, sending them hurtling every which way.

One spell careens into one of the faintly glowing machines. A sound like glass shattering is made, and then the light seems to flow out of the machine. A luminescent blue liquid covers much of the floor. This, for some reason, seems to please Mateus greatly.

"Ha-ha-ha! Behold, Cosmos' greatest secret! The Goddess of Order has been trying to grow Crystals! It seems Chaos is not the only one trying to beg The Gods' forgiveness! Tragic, isn't it?"

"Speaking of tragedy," Ultimecia says, "I am reminded." Suddenly Ultimecia lands on the ground, her image changing from that of a powerful sorceress to a young woman with long blonde hair. She is dressed in a red robe and nothing more. Her face seems to go back many years in age.

"I am a young woman, Kronikler. I live in the future you kreated. You and your SeeDs. You and your wife. All my life I have seen women taken to the chopping blokk, and one by one slaughtered in the name of Skuall Lionheart. A woman in the street passed her powers on to me. I have a lover, Kronikler. I am with child. My world has ended."

Ultimecia the woman stoops down and runs her hand through the liquid Crystal. She seems to sob for a moment, then lifts her hands and eyes toward The Chronicler. Her voice shaking, she cries, "Kan you feel nothing, Kronikler? I am the daughter of your making. Won't you save me from this future? Kan't you give me the chance to have a life? Please, my father of generations passed, why kan't I have the life you yourself had?"

"Would you like to know a secret?" The Chronicler asks, crouching down in front of her. "You are your own mother, witch. You gave Edea her power and took her body. Ironic, isn't it? You tried to change the past to give yourself a future, but wound up causing it instead."

"Then you do understand? I am but a child who has made a mistake. Give me a chance to make things right . . ."

"I don't think you understand, Ultimecia. You stole my wife's life. Where is her second chance? Where are the second chances of all those children you made her kill in the Garden Battle? That has always been your problem, Ultimecia: You think you are entitled to something. You are entitled to nothing. No one ever is. You have to earn everything."

Ultimecia begins to shriek in fury, but she is too late. The Chronicler brings The Kramer out of nowhere and strikes at her with it. There is a sound of steel striking bone accompanied by a horrible cry. Ultimecia is on her feet, standing now in some new and terrible form, faceless, and with unbelievably long arms. For a moment she just stands there and screams at The Chronicler, and then she's gone.

"Well, what about you?" The Chronicler asks, "Are you going to turn into some child to tempt me, too?"

"Look at my face," Mateus responds, "see how these stitches hold it together? I am a sob story even without guiling you."

"My heart is not moved."

"Worry not, I'll move your heart one way or another. Even if I must use my bare hands to do it." The Emperor lands on the floor in the liquid Crystal. He hisses softly, as though this pure chemical potential hurts him to the touch. The hiss turns from painful to pleasured, and the Lord of Pandemonium archs his neck, his body rocking with the feeling.

"Chaos and Cosmos war forever. Order and Madness, a battle as basic and primal as the urges which brought this pair together in the first place. All of it is Order, though. Cosmos imposes her archy, and Chaos, in retaliation, rallies the people to anarchy. The madness frightens the weak, and the weak seek sanity, becoming the new strong. Another Endless Cycle here stands. The Order of Order, and the Order of Disorder, either way all things stand in a pattern, for even that which is absolutely random is a pattern of a sort."

"Why do you say these things, Oh Emperor? Afraid to face a Cid in combat?"

"I am not finished! See my feet, see the left, which is twisted and vile, see the right, which is beautiful and clean. See how the liquid Crystal bathes them. Bathing in this, I can be anything! Touch the Crystal-blood, Chronicler. Take this potential up and save us all! Is that not the way of Light Warriors? Here is a Crystal, here is a foe. There is a Sword, and there is a warrior. STRIKE ME DOWN, CHRONICLER, TAKE UP MY CROWN! All things can be . . . yours. You have only to have the will to make a change."

"Don't mock me. I am no fool. I won't-"

"Hush, don't speak yet. Just consider. The Crystal is Unlimited Potential. Anything you want is gifted you. The power to change reality to suit your whims. Are you really saying you would deny that? Isn't that the very reason you earned your wings, halo, and harp? You want to become a God, Chronicler, the Crystal can make you one. Just reach out and take it."

You might be wondering to yourself, what is The Scholar doing? Why is he not fighting alongside his friend? Did Ultimecia really just shriek and die? Why is he just standing there? Can a pack of Cids stand against beings The Gods fear? WHY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HAS HE NOT MOVED!?

I'm sure those questions'll be answered at some point, but that most urgent one I can answer right NOW. A strong pair of hands seizes me from behind, pulling me into the darkness, throwing me up against the side of one of the Crystal Tanks before punching me in the stomach. Then another blow, and another.

"Well, well, well." says the voice of Jecht. "Poor little Cid. The Hell you think yer doin'?"

"Looking for you, of course."

"Yeah? That so? You gonna try and sweet talk me, too?" Another punch to the stomach, "Not gonna happen. I've made my choice, and that's that. I have nothing more to say to you."

"I don't understand, Jecht. What do you stand to gain from this?"

"My life back. I don't care if I'm a hero or not. Besides, you knew this was coming."

"What?"

"Your dockets, you've mentioned me before. You knew I'd go wrong before I did."

"I don't-"

"SHUT UP." A kick between the legs. Pain running through my entire body like lightning, a sound of cracking. The Crystal Tank won't last much longer, and, judging by the glow of Jecht's eyes in the darkness, I'd guess he's only getting started. "I don't care if you've got latent prophetic powers, or if Cosmos made you forget or whatever. You decided before I did that I'd join Chaos. You remembered the future, Scholar. You have no right to question my choice."

Jecht raises his fist and aims a blow at my face. The force of this blow sends me flying into the Crystal Tank, out of it, and through several more. My body lands on the floor of the Grand Cellar, and eventually skids into the wall. Jecht envelopes himself in flame, and spikes begin to grow from his body. Here is another mystery: How did Yevon find a way to make men Eidolons without having to be registered?

"Get up, you worthless Cid." Jecht fires several blasts of flare from his hand before dashing for me. I try to move, but the liquid Crystal seems to prevent it. I can do not but watch in horror. "I said GET UP." Jecht reaches out to pull me too my feet, and before I can react, liquid Crystal defends me, breaking his fingers as they come near.

"The Hell!?" he exclaims. "Heh. So you're going to use this shiny slop to protect yourself? Pathetic. You couldn't hope to defend yourself alone. Such is the way of the Cid. Always cowering behind the backs of others."

"The time draws ever nearer, Cid, and still you don't have those final dockets. What do you intend to do? Hmm?" I try to respond, but Jecht strikes my face. I allow it by holding back the Crystal. I won't be goaded into using these things. I'm still trying to figure out how I knew that Jecht would turn, and then forgot it. Is there anything else I recalled before I learned about it?

"Hey, hey, pay attention Previa. You long-winded bastard. See this?" a large stone, the length of Jecht's arm appears. "It's a Yu Pagoda. That's fancy talk for beat the living crap out of you. Watch." The Yu Pagoda is driven into my stomach repeatedly, then it rams into my chin. "This is too easy. I'm not even trying."

"Big man," I spit, "beating up a Cid. What does that prove? Cids are nothing."

"You're damn straight you are."

"But you're forgetting something."

"Save it, Previa. Whatever I'm forgetting can come and bite me in the face. You're not going to distract me. I'm here to distract you."

A sword is driven through Jecht's chest, the tip of the blade coming dangerously near to me. "You villains never learn, do you," says The Chronicler. "The minute you think you're being played one way, you're being played the other."

Jecht grunts as he looks at the blade. "So, Mateus has decided to rally, huh?" Using his great paw, Jecht tosses me to the side, then pulls himself off of The Chronicler's sword. In his other hand, Jecht's blade appears. "Look at you fools, playing Light Warrior and wielding swords. What's next, are you going to try and get girlfriends, too?" Jecht's hair frosts over, turning white, his skin becomes a strange hue, and he let's out a roar.

"Fine then," he says, "You want to be the heroes? Then you'd better learn to fight the boss monster!" Jecht swings his blade and a hail of flame whips out at The Chronicler, sending him sprawling backwards, clutching something to his chest. The Chronicler has his hands on a docket!

"Hey Jecht! Do remind us! How is it you've managed to stay on your feet this long? You'd think all the liquor would have knocked you out by now!"

"SHUT UP!" Jecht roars, turning to face me. He tries the flaming hail trick again, but to no avail. I close the distance between us, and our blades meet like angry lovers preparing for vicious and empty sex. Jecht turns up the heat, channeling it into his blade, trying to melt through mine.

Out of nowhere, I am clocked in the head by a Yu Pagoda. The other one has been sparring with The Chronicler. It seems that this is how Jecht will be trying to keep us both busy. Not that he needs to. This man exceeds us in ways neither of us could ever feel free to discuss. This is Jecht. He is a Summon. You cannot Summon him. Live with it.

Annoyed that I have spent these many years doing nothing, egged on by that tiny voice of The Liar in the back of my mind, I get back to my feet. I strike again, but Jecht deflects. I duck under a Pagoda again, and slice again. For all the size of his blade, Jecht can move it quickly. I had hoped to use it's size against him. I will have to find another way.

"What do you think you can accomplish, even if you get the dockets, hmm?" Jecht asks over his sword, trying his best to force me back. I'm surprised I've stayed standing so long this time. The Pagoda seems incapable of hitting me now, and for some reason I haven't slipped in liquid crystal and landed on my ass. It's incredible.

"Look around you. All of this was built by Cosmos, by her actions and her anger. But Cosmos was built by another. The Sire, her father, instilled this love of the way things work in her, and now she is obssessed with the way things OUGHT to work." Jecht's hand comes around and another Flare throws me away from him and against the wall. This time, however, I slip my blade into the wall and manage to stop myself from crashing into it. My arms are in pain, but that seems to be it.

"Why do you think I am serving Chaos, Scholar? Because I am afraid of who I am, of what I did? Of the fact that EVERYONE I KNEW, AND MY ENTIRE LIFE BEFORE SPIRA, ALL OF IT WAS **FALSE!?**"

"I don't know, Jecht. Why are you selling your soul? And don't blame me. You made this choice. Omniscience does not preclude free will."

"My SON!" Jecht roars, flames bursting forth from within him, flying every which way, their heat literally melting the glass on some of the Crystal Tanks. The Chronicler, who has been busy fighting Yu Pagodas, is caught by this, and his shouts are heard in the distance. Explosions are rocking The Grand Cellar. Undoubtedly the others are also struggling against evil now.

"My son . . ." Jecht repeats, throwing his sword at my head. It takes a quick reflex to dodge, one that's almost instinctual. "I abandoned him as a child. I will do anything to have that back. I would damn Spira to continued suffering, just so I could raise my son. But why choose to damn Spira? With the Crystal I can raise my son and then we both may go and save Spira together. But you, you would take that from me! You are the enemy of hope, Scholar, and so you will BURN."

I try and strike Jecht while he is unarmed, but it's no good. He throws me off. Jecht walks over to the wall and retrieves his blade before turning back to me. "It's one of those Endless Cycles. The Father screws up, and it screws up his son. The Son screws up, and someday, when he is a father, he screws up his son, and so on until the end of days. On Spira, Yu Yevon chose to Summon me and my home. His decision to become Sin ruined his daughter, Yunalesca's, life. Jyscal Guado married a hume woman, and it cost the Ronso's many lives."

"Ah, so you want to raise your boy, huh? Tell me again, how is it wrong for Cosmos to ruin The Warrior of Light's life, but right for you to ruin your son's? He lived a full life and married a beautiful woman, Jecht. What's done is done. What is past is past. Enjoy your son now. If you want to know him, know him now."

"Shut up," Jecht says, tossing me to the side again. "I don't take advice from you. I'm going to do what I think is best, and you, for the first time ever, are going to fail to finish a job."

"You're right." I say, "Hey Chronicler!"

"Yeah?"

"RUN!!"

"Give me the docket," I gasp while we run.

"What?"

"The docket!"

"Why? We're being chased Scholar, in case you forgot."

"Don't care. Give docket. We're gonna do this crap on the run."

"Okay. There's no God-Letter, though."

"Gods be damned! Any God who refuses our champion is an idiot. Cosmos is growing Crystals, Chaos has offered nine lunatics the chance to change history, and the pair of them have stirred up more monsters than there is a right to discuss. Any God who denies us a champion is on his or her own."

"Right then," The Chronicler says, tossing the folder to me. "Say hello to Auron."

Name: Auron  
Age: 35  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume

Auron is a hard case to explain. According to the docket, he went on two Pilgrimages, one with Lord Braska, the High Summoner, and Jecht, of Zanarkand, and one with Lady Yuna, High Summoner, and Tidus, of the same Zanarkand. Auron was a religious man in his early life, serving what he believed was the one true religion in his world.

But as Cidolfas Orlandeau learned, while a religion can inspire hope and kindness in millions, the men who run it can be as foul and corrupt as the demons they profess to fight. Auron journeyed with Braska, disgraced already for not marrying a Priest's daughter, and they two of them made their way to Zanarkand, along with Jecht.

But in Zanarkand the truth was revealed: To slay Sin, Summoner and Guardian would have to lay down their lives. And, only after this sacrifice, did lady Yunalesca reveal a crueler, harsher truth: SIN, she claimed, was endless. Auron, his belief shattering, but his morals surviving, struck out at her, only to be dealt a mortal blow.

Following his death, Auron spent the ensuing years in Zanarkand, watching over Tidus, Jecht's son. The ability to travel freely from The Dream to The Waking World and back served useful, eventually allowing Auron to take Tidus from Zanarkand to Spira.

Auron was Jecht's friend, and a fierce warrior, having trained all his life to fight as a warrior monk. Despite this, much of what that training did was not accomplished until after Jecht died and, as with Aerith, this Report cannot make use of actions taken post-mortem, for the powers of the dead are not the powers of the living, and those who will fight in this war will be living, not dead.

Team Work: 4/10. Auron wasn't a team player. Though he knew vital information which would or could have helped the team, or at least informed them, he withheld it. Despite having been a trained Monk and having gone on two separate Pilgrimages, I don't think Auron would be apt to aide people like The Onion Knight or Squall. Conversely, I think Squall would readily take orders from Auron, for what that is worth.

Lethality: 7/10. Auron was a skilled warrior, and two treks across the world definitely helped that out. Modest though he was, Auron was a powerful and skilled Guardian. Though he did not directly raise Tidus, he did mentor the youth, and his ability to pick up a sword and use it speaks to Auron's knowledge of weapons.

Faith: 0/10. Auron was in this exact same situation in life. The minute Auron learned of the truth, he would seek a new means of resolution. Given his friendship with Jecht, I am betting that Auron would find out very early on.

Opposition: 8/10. Auron was Jecht's friend. Though at first they were foes, their journey brought them together, and ultimately, Auron brought Jecht's son to him. Given Jecht's intense desire to raise his son himself, it's likely he would be spurred to fight the man who DID raise his son. Likewise, Auron, knowing Jecht is a good man at heart, would be spurred to make that right.

"Done?" asks The Chronicler.

"Yeah, I'm done with this one. Two to go."

"Assuming we can trust Golbez."

"We can trust Golbez. He's got no reason to lie."

"We may have a reason to lie soon."

"Really, what's that?"

"That!" shouts The Chronicler, pointing to the massive blade which comes sweeping at us. We duck as one and avoid having our heads separated from our shoulders by A Masamune. This can, of course, only mean one very unpleasant thing.

"I've missed you . . . Cid," says Sephiroth. "We both have, haven't we, Kefka?"

"I'd say you missed them in more ways than one," Kefka cracks, walking along the side of a Crystal Tank.

"Not to worry. I won't do it again."

"I doubt it." Kefka says, "You know, when Ultimecia said you were compensating for something with that big sword of yours, I didn't think she meant your aim!"

"When this is over, I'm going to spear you and roast you like a pig."

"Me? But I'm all skin and BONES. Now, Chronicler their, he looks much much tastier."

"Then let's get on with it, shall we?"

"Certainly. You know, you ought to try Magic, never misses and it's SO much more civilized than the crude weapons cobbled together by man."

"If you insist," Sephiroth says, raising his arm. Kefka jumps down next to him and puts his arm alongside Sephiroth's. He turns his head to face Sephiroth for a split second, studies his expression, then turns back and copies it. It's hard to say if Kefka's trying to take pointers on how to look cool, or if he's mocking him. Either way there is a certain _dramatic effect_ to it.

"All right," I say, "Two of the least most interesting Cids in the history of Eternity, up against arguably the most feared and respected horrors Chaos has attracted to his cause."

"If this were a book," The Chronicler says, "this would be so cool to read about."

The pair fires a round of Double Meteor at us. The spells fly quick and terrible, bursting several Crystal Tanks as they pass. Not at all confident, The Chronicler and I step forward, meet the meteors, and in a fluid movement slice the the two stones into four, leaving them flaming hunks on the floor of the Grand Cellar.

For a moment Sephiroth and Kefka are stunned. Then Sephiroth races forward and Kefka seems to disappear into the darkness above. As Sephiroth arrives, flames fall down on us from where Kefka must be. The floor explodes in place to place, sending massive chunks of rubble flying every which way. The resulting dust masks Sephiroth's approach.

The dust parts suddenly and swiftly, and almost too late we bring our blades to the fore. It takes both of us to hold back Sephiroth, and we know we cannot last long. Kefka laughs, and we are struck from behind by a great wind. Knocked forward and over Sephiroth's blade, we find ourselves closer than we'd like to be, but we're given an advantage. As Sephiroth tries to navigate his Masamune in the cramped space, Cid and I slide ours into his chest.

A moment later a knife emerges from my own.

A shrill cackle accompanies the incredible pain of living through a stab to the heart. Dead, and not buying The Cloud's story of death after death, I am ultimately only inconvenienced by this pain, but that's not really the point. The point is that it really hurts, and I let go of my sword. A moment later Sephiroth sends me flying across the way with a Gravity spell.

"Wakey-wakey, rise and shine," Kefka calls, disappearing into the shadows again, "It's stabbing time." A hail of knives issues from above this time, and The Chronicler is forced to run. "Oh, come out, come out, wherever you are, little Cids. Ollie, Ollie Oxen Free and all that!"

"Shut up, Kefka." says Sephiroth, removing my sword as I draw out the knife.

"You know, I don't think I will. It's a villain thing, I guess, needing to talk. But seriously, why don't you ever talk? You need to open up, Sephiroth. I mean, if being a badass means being an emotional void, well, how _boring._ I like to think of this as a service we are providing. Imagine the range of emotions people never experience without us. Why, if we didn't torture them, they wouldn't even be human."

I've only got the one shot. I have to time this right.

"A service? The only service I want to provide is cleansing the universe of life. These many germs and pollutants have made Eternity a filthy place, teeming with this bacteria. All I desire is to clean."

"Right, right, the end of all things and all that. We'll get there, we'll get there, but why can't we have a little fun along the way? That's all I'm saying. Everybody gets to die, we'll make sure of that, but can't we make sure everybody dies having experienced all of life's many emotions to the fullest, first?"

"I don't know, to do you care what the sand on your boots thinks?"

"Certainly. I say to myself. "Kefka, there's sand on your boots." "Why thanks Kefka, that's good to know. I wonder how that sand FEELS." "I don't know, should we ask it?" "No, I bet it feels just fine." "Well that's no good. What fun is happiness? Suffering and anguish are so much better." "You're quite right, you are." AHEM! THERE'S SAND ON MY BOOTS. Then the nice little soldiers wipe the sand off, and it has to suffer, knowing it once was going somewhere, and now will never leave. And then I start to think about the soldiers. "Kefka," I say, "How do you think THEY feel?" "Alive, I suppose." "Do they? What does alive feel like?" "I don't know! Maybe we should make them wish they were dead, so they'll more appreciate being alive!""

"I-" is all Sephiroth can manage. Instead he turns to face me. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Me? I was about to throw this knife at your head. I'm reconsidering though. Maybe it belongs in Kefka's."

"No," Kefka says, "it belongs WHERE I PUT IT." Another knife appears in his hand, and Kefka throws this, landing it in my arm as I turn. "No! No good! I'll just have to keep throwing until I get it in the right spot!"

I'm quite stuck. Nothing left to defend myself with, and no means of doing so. I can't fight these guys. I can't even use magic! What hope do I have? No, I can't think like that. Cid is the name of The Highest. I might not be a God, nor even a Seraph, but I won't go down like this. I just have to think. These two are absolutely mad. I must be able to use that some how?

Kefka fires another storm of knives, and Sephiroth lunges forward. Going on a gut instinct, I block my face with Auron's docket. To my amazement, the knives bounce off, as though the paper is made from steel, and not from . . . paper. Sephiroth arrives and slices down at me. Thinking quick, I block with the docket again, and Sephiroth is forced back.

"What the Hell?" Kefka exclaims, "You'd think he had a shield or something. Fine, if knives won't cut him down, I'll try a little flame!" A burst of flame, a flourish of fury, and a hint of rage signify Kefka flinging a Flare Star my way. Again I raise the docket to block. Again the slings and arrows of my foe are turned aside. And now they're getting mad.

"You think you have a weapon, Cid? Use it. Fight me. Oh, that's right," Sephiroth says, "You can't."

I roll up the docket in my hand, raise the other and motion for Sephiroth to move in. The Poster Boy for Falling Angels lunges forward, Masamune held out before him, I thrust with the docket and catch the sword inside of it. Deciding to see how far I can stretch the laws of physics, I turn my arm to the right. Sephiroth's sword is pulled along inside the docket and he crashes into a Crystal tank. Again the hissing, as though the liquid pains him.

Sephiroth gets to his feet and comes at me again. There is a terrible clash, as though two swords are striking each other. I pull the docket back and strike again. It's strange, really, knowing that I'm fighting one of these horrors I have studied, and knowing that naught stands between me and him but a rolled up folder of papers.

"Why do you fight me, knowing you cannot win? I am he who lurks in the nightmare. I am that which haunts your waking hours in a primal sense. I am your enemy, and you cannot hope to defeat me, so why do you press on?"

"Why do you fight against fate?" I retort, "Knowing full well that it has already come to an end. Why do you insist upon your freedom of will, in raping history, to the point of madness? You lost before, how can you make things better now?"

"Better? I don't want to make things better. This is personal for me. I don't care if I lose again, I really don't. I just want the pleasure of taking the other woman from him too. He was happy, even when I took away the woman he loved. I will go back and take away any and all women he loves. I will take everything he loves from him. If he cherishes everything, then I must take it all away."

"What is with you? Why do you obsess over this man?"

"Obsess? No. It's a simple thing, really. He is happy. I cannot let him be happy. It is our way. His happiness feeds me, makes me desire his sorrow more than anything else. As long as he is happy, I will continue to hunger for his sorrow. As long as he is sad, he will fight me. He will fight against me and his sorrow so that he can be happy. And when he is happy, I will come back and take it away from him again. Mother knew this. She would not cease until everyone was sad, so that she could be happy."

"You're mad!"

"Am I? Is it so wrong for me to desire my own happiness? Isn't that what you want, Cid? To be happy? You selfishly desire your own happiness, then deride me for craving my own. If anyone is mad, it is you! Why should your own joy and pleasure take precedence before another's? All I am trying to do is make one man sad, and one man happy! You, Cid, with your manipulations and schemes and conniving, you are the one who is mad!"

"Yeah? Me? Mad?" I ask, kicking Sephiroth, and watching, somewhat amazed, as he does in fact fly backward. "You want to see a Cid get mad, is that it, Sephiroth? Alright then. Watch and learn." Doing my best Kefka laugh, I turn to the nearest Crystal tank and punch it, the glass slicing my fingers as I do so. I take a handful of the liquid, and, as it spills to the floor and mingles with my blood, I drink it.

"He really is mad," Sephiroth says.

"You look like a fool," I say, leaping into the air. I come down at Sephiroth in a flurry of blows and swipes, each one defended against. "Look at you, dressing in tight black clothing, carrying a sword that's as tall as you are! And the one wing motif? Come ON. Everybody knows you have more than one, Sephiroth. Look at Kekfa, he's got six."

"It's true, I do," Kefka laughs, enjoying this sudden display of power on my part.

"Did I say you look like a fool? You are a fool. You're obsessed with one man's life. You think an insane alien from a world The Gods personally destroyed is your mother. Hey, newsflash Sephiroth: Your mom was just some crappy scientist like mine in the pay of a crappy nation, just like mine. The difference? I didn't spend all day worrying about what Zok the sage was having for breakfast."

Angry, Sephiroth tries to hit me with a spell, but the Crystal I'm on is too much for him. My leg comes up between his, and his eyes widen in surprise and pain. I smack him in the face with the docket. Twice. "How you have such a devoted following of demons escapes me completely. You aren't even your own person! You're the sum of Jenova's libido combined with Rufus Shin-Ra's fetish for leather with a dash of Hojo's giant forehead for good measure. If you aren't doing what Jenova would do if she were here, you're doing what Cloud wouldn't want you to do."

This time I simply grab Sephiroth and toss him aside. When he lands, a blast of Holy flies from my hands. Apparently, taking even the slightest dose of Liquid Crystal is very potent. I just hope it doesn't wear off, because Sephiroth is getting extremely pissed.

"Admit it! You've never had your own thought even once. You're a freak created out of curiousity and scorn. Hojo was horny and Lucrecia vindictive. Shin-Ra wanted to rule the world, Jenova wanted to destroy it. You couldn't even kill a Flower Girl without your so-called mother's help. Across the Heavens your will is lauded as a match for The Highest's, but I see you now, and I know the truth: You have no will, because there is no you. Sephiroth isn't. There is only the sum of Jenova, Hojo, Lucrecia, and Shin-Ra."

"And you?" Sephiroth asks, "What makes you so much better? What part of you do you call your own? What part of you is truly not from another? Avarice? Vengeance? Greed? Lust? I am not me because others have been so before? Such is the way of life . . ."

". . . as a human," I finish for him.

"Oh," Sephiroth says.

"Oh what?" Kefka asks, "What? He's just talking. Kill him already. He's just talking, Sephiroth. The Crystal he's consumed has probably even worn off. Get this over with already!"

But Sephiroth does not. He just stands there a moment and screams in anger, and then is gone. Kefka jumps down and looks around. He sighs, shakes his head, and groans. "I can't- of all the nerve! Stupid Sephiroth, where does he think he's going? You're just a Cid, and I'm not going to let you reason or mock or talk your way out of this. You didn't even answer his question. I can't believe it. I've gotta know, how'd you do it?"

"Simple: I put him down. Turns out you guys have really low self-esteem."

"Well, isn't that just . . . special?" Kefka asks, slinking nearer. "Used your words to defeat the big, scary brute? No, no, I know that only too well. You see, I was pushed around by big meatheads all the time, too. You and I have so much in common, what with the madness and all."

"Except the part where you managed to become a God without going through the proper path."

"Oh, that? Yeah, I suppose that does separate us a little bit. But I was thinking more along the lines of how, when I was alive, I tortured and bossed a Cid around all day. Now that you mention it, though, I suppose we have that in common, too."

"Are you going to talk all day, or are we going to fight?"

"Well, I thought we might have a tea party, but then I remembered all the tea is still in your veins. We'll have to do something about that now, won't we?" A flail appears in Kefka's left hand, and a knife in his right. A sneer on his face and murder in his eyes. Wait, is that murder or mirth? It's so hard to tell with him.

"A flail, huh? No sword? What's that about?"

"Two reasons, really. First, flails break bones and generally inflict more pain than swords. Swords are made to kill. Flails are made to hurt. Second, watching somebody's face get crushed by a flail is bloody hilarious."

"Right then," I say, charging Kefka. Kefka vanishes, appears behind me, slits the back of my neck, then hits me in the head with the flail. Crying out in pain, I try to turn, but my body is still struggling to heal itself. You can feel pain, and your body, in infinite kindness, will heal itself perfectly after every woun.d. The dead could entertain Kefka forever.

Above me again, and Kefka launches a volley of knives. As I roll to the side, I ask that all important question: Where the hell is everybody? The Chronicler was with me. Where did he go? And what of The Wanderer? Wasn't he supposed to be taking care of this problem? Gods, if you want something _done_ . . .

"You want to know what's funny?" Kefka asks, his flail narrowly missing my stomach. "What's REALLY FUNNY? I'll tell you."

"I knew you would," I say, thwacking his wrist, causing the knife to fall out.

As we continue our battle, Kefka speaks. "Love. Love is hilarious. Love is such a farce, a joke, a horrible thing, and yet you people cling to it as though it were a virtue. You know what love does? It brings too people together and makes them think they're happy. And then one of those people dies, and the other is left horribly alone. Love is the sincerest form of hatred conceivable. Love encourages people to do the craziest things, and these things they do for love make others fill with hatred. And that hatred goes on, unstopped by anything but love."

Kefka stomps, shredding his clothing and the floor of The Grand Cellar. His body is surprisingly much more muscled than it appears. "Curious, isn't it? Because my mother thought she loved a man, I was born. Because he did not love her, she did not love me. Because I was not loved, I did not love. Because I did not love, I deprived Terra of love. Because Terra was deprived of love, she hungered for it when she was free of me. When she found it, she defeated me. But because Terra thought she loved Leo, he had to die. Love begets hatred, and hatred begets love. From this, there is no escape!"

A shining light emanates from the core of the Rule Changer, and of a sudden, bursts forth. The light, like a blade, slices through the hanging darkness. The very fabrics of The Grand Cellar are torn along the seam illuminated by Kefka's Light. The air is filled with the stench of ether like before a lightning strike. A hole allows some dim light into The Grand Cellar from outside, which is odd, since we are underground.

Kefka tosses aside his flail and knife, which promptly evaporate, and hurls himself forward. And yet, it isn't forward at all. He moves like he should be coming forward, but he is in fact going backward. Kefka claws the ground as he flies upward, and then jumps backward at me. Here is the ability to change the laws of reality, even in the sanctuary of Heaven. Now comes the confrontation.

Yet as Kefka nears, he suddenly is stopped. From the remnants of his cloak falls the second docket, narrowly avoiding two shining blades that burst, one through his chest, the other through his head. The swords cut through Kefka toward each other, and then finish pulling through him, dividing the God in twain. The Half-Kekfa's scream, as others before them, then vanish. To where I do not know, for what reason I do not care. I am a busy man, and though the actions of villains ought to interest me, I cannot afford the time.

The swords, it turns out, belong to The Chronicler and The Wanderer. Their blades, I see, have been covered in liquid Crystal. It's comforting to know I'm not the only one who has noticed that the Crystals, however incomplete, are useful. I must remember to thank The Engineer for the idea some time.

"Ah, there you are," says The Wanderer, "I was beginning to think you'd gone home, Scholar."

"And I was beginning to worry you had gone somewhere worse, Wanderer," I reply.

"And in the meantime," The Chronicler says, "I can see that I am the only person who was trying to hold things together. Splitting up was a bad idea."

"It certainly does look that way. Who'd have ever thought, huh? We, of all the groups in The Heavens who are out there, picking champions, would be the ones who make the classic blunder."

"It was bound to happen some time," The Wanderer says, "as long as no one ever knows, it can't possibly hurt our careers."

"I suppose so."

"Well," The Chronicler says, "Let's not stand around here. Ultimecia, Palamecia, Sephiroth and Kefka may have disappeared, but at the very least, The Cloud of Darkness, Kuja, Golbez, and Ex-Death are still down here. Let's go find our friends, shall we?"

Name: Yunalesca  
Age: 17  
Sex: Female  
Species: Hume (Summoner)

Yuna is an excellent choice. Though I loathe the idea of sending a Summoner to this battle. (I am, however, surprised to see so many Summoner candidates). Yuna has an impressive record of wins on her side, having triumphed against Seymour Guado, Jecht, Yu Yevon, and ultimately Shuyin, concerning whom I will speak in a moment. She is a varied and talented woman, though, whose skill extends beyond simply the realm of Summoning. In her later travels, Yuna mastered a wide variety of poiwers, ranging from black magic to psychic powers to swords-and-marksmanship. Here is a woman worth looking into.

Her father taken from her at a young age, Yuna shares much in common with Jecht's own son, their two father's having been on the same quest to strike down Sin and save Spira. Some small time later, Yuna was made a Summoner, and the quest began anew. Her fateful encounter with Jecht's son, though, changed the future of Spira forever.

She really is an excellent choice, it would seem. The man known as Seymour Guado (Whom I will also address in a moment) attempted to turn Yuna away from her quest several times, and each time Yuna and her guardians managed to defeat this man. When at last she met Jecht again, victory arrived once more, and, ultimately, Yuna defeated Yu Yevon and claimed her victory there, as well.

Two years down the road, at the end of her quest to find the man she loved, Yuna confronted Shuyin. Shuyin is . . . an interesting subject. According to the docket on Shuyin, he was present at the Jailbreak Gathering this morning when Chaos freed so many villains and gathered The Nine. Shuyin's desire to undo his own sins drew him to Chaos, but apparently something about Jecht made Chaos more interested. The Liar did not participate in this choice, so the answer is not explained.

Similarly, Seymour Guado was among those freed by Chaos. Here was a man who was perfect for the job: Twisted, mad, vicious and physically weaker than Garland. But Chaos picked Jecht instead. In fact, according to the docket, Seymour protested the choice, demanded Chaos choose him, and was thrown back into his cell.

There is some reason to wonder, then, why Chaos would choose the least likely of villains, rather than the most. I also wonder if perhaps it would thus be foolish to send the most likely hero against him.

Team Work: 7/10. Though Yuna was at first willing to die for her world, and twice saved it, she also turned her back on the planet that needed her guidance and leadership. Spira, lacking Yevon, needed a leader. When Yuna shirked this responsibility, a war began. Yuna's own negligence lead her on a quest which ultimately brought her love back, as well as reuniting Shuyin and Lenne, but also raised Shuyin in the first place. Had Yuna done what she was asked, danger would never have come into being.

Lethality: 7/10. A summoner, Yuna wields great power. Following that quest, her versatility only grew, as she obtained a vast variety of other abilities and techniques. Again, however, these powers did not rest nor spring from within her, and she was thus still a mere woman. She did free the world from a cycle of terror and horror, and laid to rest Yevon, but there's the manner of this being Jecht, not Yevon we are talking about.

Faith: 4/10. Yuna, deeply religious at first, eventually discovered the truth of Yevon and ultimately turned against him. The parallel here is evident. Outside of this, Yuna has a terrible habit of turning away from what she is asked to do anyway. No one may dominate her, and thus she will go out of her way to make her own way.

Opposition: 5/10. Yuna knew Jecht, and the two were, in some small and trivial way, friends. Never formally, of course, but rather a very indirect friendship. It is perhaps more accurate to say that Braska spoke of his daughter to Jecht, and this little lady reminded him in a way of his own son, and he was thus fond of the idea of her. Likewise, Yuna heard the tales of her father and Jecht's pilgrimage, and thought the best of him for it. Beyond that they share one other thing in common: Tidus. Here was a young man they both loved in their own ways, and, if possible, a battle could be fought over him. I cannot say for certain, though. Yuna is a maverick. I guess you could claim it came down to whether or not Jecht asked her to stay on Cosmos' side.

"Sin," says Golbez, "is like a beautiful flower. It grows and grows until it is so attractive that no child of woman ever born can resist plucking it. He blows on the flower, makes his wish, and sends it's many seeds flying, sowing seeds for future sins."

"Music!" Ex-Death barks, "Ha! Sound is a travesty in and of itself. I am ashamed of speech, yet make it I must. You wretched animals and your obsession with noise. If only you were more quiet, you would have fewer secrets. The less you said, the less you could lie, and the fewer demons you would have to lock away."

"Is it any wonder that man sins?" Golbez asks as we draw near, "Sin is nothing to be ashamed of. It is only natural. The problem is those who think they are better than nature. Nature is Sin, and Sin is Nature. All Creation is designed to encourage Sin. And sins are answered with sin upon sin. Why repent? Even your repentence will only cause more sin."

"I desire only silence," Ex-Death says, "And only truth. In the boundless expanses of Silence, there can be no secrets. This is why I hunger for The Void, that all may be made plain, naked, clear, honest, and above all else, Silent. That the clamor of existence may be shut up, and that the voices within me can make no greater noises."

"Ye're both bleedin' fools!" The Engineer answers, narrowly avoiding a poorly aimed shot from Golbez. "Silence? Sin? Ha! HA! HAW! Ye fight losin' battles! Ye lot of quiet sinners'll always be tormented by the laughter of they who stan' in the light! Fools! Ye wan' silence? Ye wan' us all ter be stickied in yer sins? I'll give ye silence! I'll give ye sticky!"

"Try then," Ex-Death says, "You horribly noisy thing. See if you can silence that which does not speak."

And of course, The Engineer, never one to put up with others, swings his sword fast and hard at Ex-Death. The fiend simply stretches forth an arm and lets the sword thunk into it. A hollow laughter comes from within the armor as Ex-Death punches The Engineer, sending him flying. Golbez appears behind him, strikes him from below, sending The Engineer upward, and then the two begin to bat him back and forth.

Oddly, The Engineer does not seem to mind. Despite the pain he should be suffering, his face appears strangely focused. Almost as if he were calculating something in his head. But what? What plan could this man have in store?

Golbez sends him flying on a chunk of Blizzaga, and at this point The Engineer makes his strike. He leaps onto Ex-Death and grabs his helmet. Quickly tossing it aside, The Engineer performs one fluid turn and snaps Ex-Death's neck. The villain shrieks in agony, and several demons seem to burst through him, flying toward the ceiling and on toward the Palace's roof.

"Ha! Who would have guessed you had the spirit of a killer, Pollendina?" Golbez laughs. "See how even you are not above sin? See how no man can escape Sin? How Sin and Man are one? How these terms intertwine as the night and the shadows?"

"Ar! Shut yer trap! 'Course I cinnae avoid Sin! No man can! Am I a God? Nay! Sin is somethin' all folks live with! Ye need ter learn tha'! I's risin' above ar sins wha' makes us good, no' revelling in em!"

"Fool. No one can rise above Sin, not even The Gods. Ere you have finished here, Pollendina, you will realize this truth. Cosmos sins constantly. Even He Who is Highest is a sinner. Sin cannot be driven from the soul, not even in the Sacred Nebula. Look around you. Cosmos grows a thousand crystals without knowledge nor permission from Above. Do you honestly think this is right?"

"D'ye mean to persuade me, Ceo? Look at th' armor ye be wearin'! Wha' ye're doin' is wrong! Plain an' simple! Ye hate tha' armor, yet there ye be, wearin' it anyway!"

"Believe whatever you want, Pollendina. I will not destroy your beliefs. Cosmos herself has done that for me. When all is said and done, not a single Cid across Heaven will stand by her . . . not freely, anyway."

"An' wha' d'ye mean by that?"

"Nothing, of course. All I have said is nonsense thus far, and all I shall say is nonsense here after."

"Many things you are, Ceodore Harvey," I say, stepping into the area, flanked by The Chronicler and The Messenger, "but a liar is not one of them."

"I suppose not. Nevertheless, I have made my choice for my own reason, and I do not expect you to understand."

"We can't understand," The Chronicler says, "without knowing your reason."

"What good would understanding do? You would not allow me to continue on this path, and now you could not. You have torn Cecil's soul in twain in your vain attempts to stop me, and you will not turn back. You are the Cids who have never quit. Why would you quit, just because one man asked you to give him a second chance? You don't even give those to your own, why would you afford one to a stranger? No, no, understanding would do no good. It is best you do not know."

Golbez motions to the body of Ex-Death on the floor. The botanical head raises to look at him. "Come," Golbez says, "Sephiroth and Kefka have wasted enough of there time. We will not."

"Indeed, says Ex-Death, replacing his helmet. "Though it is humorous that they came here seeking a docket, when we have none to give."

"Farewell, Cids. When I have changed history, perhaps your fates will be spared. We will see you again at your journey's end. Farewell."

We can waste no more time now. The Engineer does not even offer a greeting. We just march onward. The sounds of rumbling in the distance make it fairly clear where we need to go. The noise and light grow stronger as we reach the source. The Messenger is fighting for his afterlife ahead, and, knowing this, we break into a run.

When we arrive, Kuja and Cloud are entwined, Kuja's tail around Cloud's waist, her snakes around his body, their backs pressed together, their heads facing The Messenger, their arms slinging spells. This is, undoubtedly, one of the more perverse sights of the day.

"Ha! Another narrow miss, how troubling!" Kuja laughs. "Don't worry, fair lady, we'll get the bug soon enough."

"Don't talk," The Cloud says, "Just shoot."

"Better yet," The Wanderer says, "How about you come down from there and you and I have a nice talk about this? A beautiful woman should not waste her time shooting at things."

Taking notice of us, the naked pair break their clasp. Kuja hovers in front of the Cloud and smiles a charming grin. For a man, his face is astonishingly feminine. Especially his smile.

"Well, well, it looks like the others are done playing."

"They've come for the last docket."

"So give it to them, sweet-cheeks. We can't destroy it."

"We can destroy them."

"True, but it's easier to fight without having to balance the docket."

"What if this comes back to bite us?"

"Please, do you really think they're going to pick someone who can beat us?"

"If I give it to them, then can I crush them?"

"Of course, of course. Just give them the docket. If you do, there will be more fun to have later on."

"Fine." The Cloud of Darkness reaches over to one of her snakes, and places a hand before it. The Snake spits up the docket, and The Cloud reaches out, flicks her wrist, and sends it flying like a shuriken. The docket hits the floor and sticks to the ground.

I make a dive for the docket, and just as I do, Kuja and Cloud renew their efforts. This is it. The battle for the last docket has begun. After this our work is finished, and our freedom from this madness assured. All we must do is weather the beatings of these two. A worrisome thing, if you ask me. Kuja and The Cloud both showed no regard for Heaven's well being during their conflicts. What hope is there that they will now?

"All the world is a stage!" Kuja shouts above the sound of the crystal tanks shattering. "Or so I am told. And all plays must have an end! But what if they could go on forever? The greatest story ever told, all without an ending!"

I get my hands on the docket as the others spring into action against Kuja. The Cloud of Darkness seems to be hanging back. That's all well and good if you ask me. One at a time is a great pace. Just so long as they're distracted long enough for me to finish.

"I'm sure you guys have heard all manner of fancy talk today," Kuja says, "So I'll make this very plain and simple: I am my Endless Cycle. I am Eternal. I am created and creator. When I am gone, everything should go with me until I decide to come back. Life is raised again and again, always new things feel the need to be born, despite the fact that they're inevitably going to die. And as things die, people feel such pain, and so they surround themselves with new life. As things are born, others die, and as things die, others are born."

I continue to tug at the docket, trying to pull it out. Any moment now it'll come free and I can finish the task. I'm hoping this last candidate is impressive. It'd be nice to end my career on a high note. Because there is no way in Hell I am ever doing this again. I'll go to The Counsel of Cids, deliver my Report, and then I'm going home to see my family. I'll take up some instrument and play it for my children, and their children, and their children's children.

"I tell you know, gentlemen, that this is WRONG. Life and Death should not go on forever without me. What good is that? I am Eternity, and so Life and Death should follow me! ME! And if they will not do so willingly, I will make them do so."

One last mighty tug and the docket comes free! Ecstatic, I flip it open and begin to thumb through the pages. I have to finish reading before I can start scoring. Even so, I manage to hear Kuja.

"I am not vain," lies Kuja, "I don't desire dominion over lands, or any great increase in powoer, nor even the death of all things. I just want everything and everyone and everywhere and everytime to recognize how important I am. I am everything. I am everyone. I am everywhere. I am everytime. I am **KUJA!**"

Name: Shuyin . . .  
Age: 17 . . .  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume . . .

. . . What? Shu . . .Shuyin? Shuyin? I don't? What? How do I? Yes, Tidus is the Fayth's Dream Shuyin, their Perfect Embodiment of him, but that doesn't mean he WAS Shuyin. This does not make sense. I suppose I should explain my confusion a little more.

When Zanarkand Fell, Yu Yevon managed to pool the might of the Fayth to Summon Dream Zanarkand. An impressive and bizarre feat, Summoning an entire City, and when he did so, the Fayth dreamt of Zanarkand as though it were some kind of fable. Yet Yu, in many ways a God, managed to breathe life into these dreams. They seemed incredibly real, but still just dreams, until the fateful day that Jecht found himself in Spira.

As you no doubt are aware, Jecht is an angel now. He, and all souls of Dream Zanarkand, like the Genomes, were recognized as living souls by The Gods. Which is why I am confused to see Shuyin here. Yuna's docket makes it clear that Shuyin was AT the Cleft Prison this morning when Chaos called to arms his followers. This docket seems to explain that Shuyin turned back, however, because of Lenne.

What is not explained is why Shuyin is chosen. Jecht has no experience with Shuyin, and in fact, many of the souls of Dream Zanarkand are still ostracizing themselves from the souls whom gave birth to them. Shuyin has no history of outstanding battle, and certainly nothing in the way of defeating something like Sin. In fact, Shuyin's only combat experience prior to his death was in the Bevelle Zanarkand War, and he was not a soldier of any special renown, just an athlete who was the lover of a pop star. He was a celebrity. A Prince of Zanarkand, just as Sephiroth was a Prince of Midgar, though the cases differ in that Sephiroth's popularity was earned in battle, and Shuyin's in sport.

There is nothing here I can score. I mean, there's more here than for Ward Zabac, but there isn't enough to score. There are only two conclusions. Either Golbez lied, or Kuja deceived us.

There must be another docket.

"There must be another docket." I say, getting to my feet. The others turn to stare at me. Even Kuja ceases casting spells. "The other docket. Where is it? Do you think this is funny, Kuja? I've never been late before, I won't know. Even if I have to grab you by your monkey tail, rip it off and flay you with it. Where is the other docket?"

"Well, crap." Kuja says. "There goes the fun. Cloud, dearie, why don't you just take care of them, hm? I'm going to run ahead."

"I don't think so! Where's the other docket, Kuja?"

"Where else?" Kuja asks, pointing off toward the light at the end of The Grand Cellar, "At the End of Your Journey, of course. Did you think we would relinquish full control? No, no. There's something you have to see, first. You have to CHOOSE to end this. But to make the right choice, you must SEE, first."

"Then show me."

"Maybe," Kuja says. "I'm going now. The Cloud will delay you." Before anyone can respond, Kuja vanishes into the air. This leaves five Cids and one Cloud of Darkness. We're going to need more Cids.

"I should kill you all," she says. "Just to watch you suffer."

"But you won't."

"No. Not right now. Someday, yes. I hunger for that day. I desire to know for certain that which I have guessed. I want to know for certain that of Destruction, Creation is born."

"An interesting theory," The Chronciler says, "But we must be going."

"You have already gone." The Cloud answers, "Everyone has already gone. Soon, I will go too. Why do we create, when all that is made must be destroyed? Why do we strive to destroy, when others will simply come to create? Why can we not simply lay down to rest in that Nirvana of the Void. Why can we not have oblivion? Must there always be something or the absence of it? Can there not just be . . . nothing?"

"Would you like nothing?" The Messenger says, as we slowly begin to shuffle away, "return to your Void. Your oblivion is not for everyone."

"That's illogical. You just haven't tried it yet."

"An' we ha' no innerest," says The Engineer. "Why can ye no see this?"

"Why can't you see what peace you would have, free from the constant need to create and destroy? Slumber is so calm, so refreshing, so pure and healing. As long as we all lay down together, all will be well."

"It's not worth it to be so lazy," The Wanderer pitches in, "Why sleep when there is so much we can accomplish?"

"Perhaps Ex-Death is right. Life is so noisy. You living things make noise constantly. You make noise when you are born. You make it when you make love. You make it as you eat. You make it as you sleep. You make noise and call it music. You make noise and call it speech. You are a noisy lot, you waking, living, creating things. In the Nothingness, there is no noise. Is this why you hold so desperately against it?"

"Are we the ones who cling?" I ask, as we take our leave, confused by the strangely serene foe, "Or are you? Who is the one who cannot change? We, who always make new and stranger sounds, or you, who refuse to make any at all?" We stand now, the five of us, at the base of the far wall. The Nine hover above us. The Cloud of Darkness is there, as though nothing has happened at all. She must move quickly and forget swiftly. It's hard to say how her mind works.

"Give us the last docket!" I call.

"Soon," Mateus says. "Soon."

"But first," Ultimecia adds, "First you must see your start."

"You must know how all of this," The Cloud of Darkness gestures at the crystal tanks, "began."

"One last twist of the plot, before the curtains close. Or is it open?"

"Behold the Sin of the Goddess!"

"Ready your screams, oh wretched animals."

"Here told is a joke. A real scream, if you will."

"Lower it," Sephiroth says, "I am tired of their hope."

The Light, a massive blue pod attached to the side of the wall, lowers downward. Kuja flicks a switch and the blue light drains from the pod through thousands of tubes, filling all the Crystal tanks, gushing out of the tanks which are broken. And there, frozen within, is the figure of a man.

I approach the pod and rub some of the dust off of it. The words enscribed make me recoil.

"Read it out loud."

_Cid Prime. Cidian Lief, wellspring of potential. Cid called The Source. May he rest in peace as he serves his Goddess._

"Oh Gods . . ." I whisper.

"Yes," says Mateus, "Cosmos has been bottling Cid Juice to grow her Crystals with."

"The Cid of the First Act of Cosmos' eternal war, pickled for her own sake."

"The Crystal juice you drank," Kefka says, "Came a-gushing out of this body here."

"Do you see it," Golbez asks, floating near the pod, "The Sin of The Goddess? Do you see why she asked specifically for you, for your group, and not for any others?"

"Unlimited Potential," Ex-Death rasps, "Thus are Cids. From The Highest down to The Liar, every Cid ever born or waiting to be born represents unlimited potential. And what are Crystals, but the power to enact change through the infinite possibilities a Cid represents?"

"See now," Ultimecia adds, "How for each of us there is a Cid? How every time Khaos falls, a Cid is present? Know this: Akross eternity there are Cids without number. Note the great number of Cids born to Ivalice. See how Faram is now an Elohim. Are these things really diskonnekted? No."

"Give them the docket," Sephiroth says. "Let them now decide if they will serve this Goddess any longer, or claim their freedom."

Golbez produces the docket and lets it fall softly toward the ground. As it touches down, no one moves. We stare at it a moment, and then back at the Cid in the Tank. My stomach turns, knowing I have ingested some of this fluid. My mind reels as I stare at the man within the bottle.

The Source? What kind of title is that for a Cid? What is the meaning of this? This man served Cosmos in her very first war. He raised the Liefenish Culture to the Heavens, built Airship after Airship, and saved one for her beneath the sands. Then she let him be slain with the Liefenish Culture, and, receiving his soul into her arms, she puts him in a jar?

Maybe I was wrong? Maybe we have served the wrong side in all of this? Cosmos has trapped this Cid in a jar to make Crystals. She has injured the minds of those Warriors who served her and started her Cycle of Victory. Her war has woken Kefka and in response we have woken the Godslayer. Time itself is tangled in these choices, and in this war. There is so much here which is the wrong of Cosmos, and so much here which is my own wrong, and the two are trapped together.

"Scholar," The Messenger says as he rests a hand on my shoulder. "I know what you are thinking. What you are feeling. Take the docket, Scholar. Finish the job. We will repent of these sins after. Let us finish this. We will answer to The Gods, but let us answer with our minds clear."

"Yes," The Chronicler says, "Let's just put this to it's end."

And so I reach out, pick up the docket, and open it.

"We have nothing more to say or see here," Golbez says to the other villains. "The time has come for us to prepare. The Cids have chosen. Now we go and get ready to do that which we signed up for at the first."

"Indeed," Ex-Death says, "The War is set. A pity. I had hoped they would see reason."

One by one the villains vanish, and we are left alone in the darkness with The Source. I hold out the docket and say, "We can't be found here by Cosmos. But if we finish this, we do it here, in front of our fellow Cid."

"Then let's waste no time."

Name: Tidus  
Age: 17  
Sex: Male  
Species: Hume (Eidolon, Single)

Here we are. This is the emotional punch I was looking for. Tidus is Jecht's son, and ultimately the reason why Jecht has joined Chaos. Oh I hope this kid is impressive, and I apologize ahead of time for the absolute lack of morality or fairness in my decision but if he's even half as impressive as Yuna I'm going to send Tidus. The father demands that he be allowed to raise his son, so I will send his son to stop him.

Diving right in, it seems that while Shuyin was given military training, Tidus never had such a thing. He received some training with a sword from Auron, but nothing so in-depth as a military course. While Auron must have been a great teacher, given Tidus' skill, it is fair to say they did not spend as much time studying the blade as Auron and his master did.

Nevertheless, Tidus was an athletic young man, having inherited his father's skill as well as having been dreamt to have the talent and might of Shuyin at his prime. He was swift, fleet, agile, and rather flexible. So while some persons, like Cecil or Cloud, might be brute might, Tidus would fit better with Zidane, who was also agile.

Tidus was a cheerful guy, at first rather irritating to others, because he was a pampered star, but in time he grew up a little and his companions warmed to him. In his heart there was a certain anger for his father, though, and while it diminished greatly, it never vanished entirely.

But Tidus may be considered a genuinely good and charitable person. Stranded in Spira, he ultimately chose to save this foreign world at the cost of his own. He realized that, no matter how real the people he knew and loved were, he must make final their fantasy. Choosing reality over fantasy at the cost of his very life, such was Tidus. Though ultimately he was awarded a second chance, not by The Gods, but by the love of Yuna, Tidus remains a man who turned against all that should have been expected of him and did the right thing.

Team Work: 10/10. Tidus, though not a soldier, was an athlete on a team, and continued to participate in sports after arriving in Spira. He managed to warm the otherwise cold hearts of Spira's depressed denizens. And, as is my tradition, he is automatically awarded full points in this category on virtue of having given his life for his team. To that same end, Tidus is someone I expect to get along greatly with all members of the team. Though some, specifically Terra, Cecil, Cloud, and Squall, might at first not get along with him, Tidus has a knack for getting people to like him. He may serve as a means of unifying the team at times.

Lethality: 8/10. Despite not being a trained warrior, Tidus was, in terms of combat, the second most powerful member of his team after Auron. His power is perhaps because he is an emulation of a perfect Shuyin, and since Shuyin was a soldier, it is not impossible that the Fayth dreamt that he was a mighty one. Regardless of how, Tidus was a skilled fighter by journey's end, having stood alongside Yuna as she triumphed over Seymour, Sin, Yevon, and of course, Jecht.

Faith: 2/10. Without even understanding what Yevon WAS, Tidus was against it. I do not think Tidus will accept Cosmos. He does not trust Gods. But, seeing the fate of my fellow Cid, I do not care. If Tidus turns against her and turns the others as well, I will not care. The other side is that Tidus won't be interested in changing history, he having made his peace with Zanarkand, with Jecht, and having beaten Sin and won the hand of Yuna.

Opposition: 10/10. Tidus is Jecht's son. The bond between these two is incredibly strong, whether either willingly admits it or not. Even after death, they maintain some small contact with one another. Jecht and Tidus are not enemies, despite the many times they fight. Yet it is their relationship, that they are not foes, which makes this opposition so perfect. There is also my own sick fancy invested in this. Jecht desires the opportunity to raise his son, and Tidus desires his father's peace. To make the son fight against the father's wish, which is ultimately for his son, is the cruelest of ironies, and fit punishment for the decision Jecht has made.

I am indeed a Would-Be-God. Perhaps I shall be like the Occuria at the end of this, stripped of my wings, trapped within a shell, and cast out from Heaven. If it is so, so be it. But when all is said and done, all shall know that I did not stand idly by during this, and it will be said that I did indeed finish that last and final job.


	11. Final Chapter

**The Cosmos Report**  
_The Final Chapter_

"Well," The Chronicler says, "We're done."

"And we are cruel beyond measure," says The Wanderer. "To send a son to strike his father."

"We do what we must," I say, "Jecht is defying The Gods. As angels, it is our duty to do what we must to stand against him."

"Still,"

"Yes," I say, "It was a horrible and cruel decision. We have made terrible choices this day. We must move now, though. We cannot be found here."

We take our leave of The Source, not sure what we could do for him anyway. We make our way as far away from that place as possible. We move so quickly that we are near to the exit when Cosmos' angels finally find us.

"Ah, Cids. We have been searching for you. Chaos has left! The battle is ended!"

"So i' woul' seem," says The Engineer. "If ye'll escuse us, though, we be late fer a meetin'."

"We cannot," one angel says, "The Lady demands you rest here, if only for the night, and then speak with her in the morning."

"Please, though," the other angel says, "give me the dockets. I will take your final choice to The Lady."

"Very well," I say, wanting some rest. "Our work is done. We will stay here the night and then bid farewell to The Lady."

"A most excellent decision, Oh Scholar," says the first angel. She leads us out of The Grand Cellar and back into the Palace.

"We will take you to your rooms," says the second. "It would be our pleasure."

The night comes, and we rest in our rooms. The others celebrate for a small time before retiring. Before he goes to his bed, I call The Messenger aside. He gives me a puzzled look, but concedes. What I ask is important.

"Do you still have Cosmos' Crystal?"

"Yeah, I do. I'd completely forgotten about it. Do you think I should call an angel and have them take it to her?"

"No. Give it to me. Let me hold on to it. I'll give it to her tomorrow morning. I would sleep easier if I had it, though."

"Alright, that's not a problem. Make sure you get some rest, though, Scholar. Tomorrow night we'll be out of here, and then we can celebrate for real. I shall be glad to be gone from this place."

"As shall I. Goodnight, Messenger,"

"Goodnight, Scholar."

The Messenger takes his leave after handing me the Crystal, and I sit down at my bed with the object in my hands. Absolute power is contained within. The object by which they who are not Gods may work miracles. The gems which Gods decorate themselves with. Unlimited Potential is The Source of this stone. The power to change anything and everything, right here in my hands.

And I know what I must do.

The morning comes, and we are dressed in our travelling robes once more. They are fine robes to behold, white, edged with red, each one bearing blue stripes to signify our office. Our things have been sent ahead. The angels of The Lady come and knock one after another on our doors to fetch us.

We assemble outside the doors and offer our smiles to each other. Things are at last over. We will soon go and see The Highest at his Counsel, but more importantly, we will soon be free to relax again. Maybe we will go and relax at a resort when we are done. No real need to think much about it. All that matters is we are almost done.

"This way, please," says the angel, and we file after her.

There are things which bother us, yes, things we have seen and heard which haunt us, and choices we have made, but for the moment, those don't matter. Over our heads seems to hover that familiar aura of a job well done. We have finished our work, and we have finished it on time. Our record remains perfect, and we may now move on with our afterlives.

The Palace is being repaired swiftly. Cosmos could, of course, wave her hand and make it better, save those things destroyed by Kefka, Ex-Death, and The Cloud of Darkness, which are beyond the realm of The Gods. Things are being repaired this way, though, because it is better that people have things to do. Sure, one can spend eternity relaxing and doing nothing, but many, many souls prefer to spend it working, being busy, having something to do.

We pass by the pools again and see several demons have been held here. Apparently Cosmos intends to open a new prison in light of the Cleft Jail Break. Several Seraphim incline their heads as we pass. But as I glance back after we have passed them, I see that they are being called elsewhere.

Eventually, we reach the room where I scored the ninth dockets. The room has been refurnished. The angel stops us here and says, "Please, have a seat. We will call you up to join The Lady in a moment."

When I am quite sure she is gone, I turn to The Chronicler. I reach into my robe and produce The Crystal. The Chronicler takes it and gives me an odd look.

"What's this?"

"Cosmos' Crystal," I say, "keep it safe. In it rests my entire record of what has happened here since we arrived. I remember these things perfectly, but I want you to hold on to that in case I forget, or in case The Gods demand a back up at The Counsel of Cids or if they wish someone to confirm my words. Hide it. Cosmos cannot know we are taking it."

"I will," he says, "gladly. It will be my pleasure." The Chronicler hides the Crystal inside his robe, and we shake hands. The others come to us, then, and we stand side-by-side as the angel comes back down.

"The Lady will meet with you now."

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Ascending the stairs, we enter the daylight that shines about the palace. We follow the angel to the center of the amphitheatre. The seats are packed full of angels, and there, center-stage, stands Cosmos. Not the Princess, but the Goddess. Her light does not freeze us this time, however, and we are still fully able to move.

Around Cosmos, thrust into the floor, are our swords. The Goddess turns to face us, and with a wave of her hand, dismisses the angel to go and join the crowd. The Scholar passes me and approaches The Goddess.

Looking about, he asks, "What is the occasion, Goddess? We have done only a small thing for you."

Cosmos smiles her beautiful smile, then motions to the veil. **Would you like to see what is beyond?** she asks. The Scholar looks at her in confusion. He shrugs, supposing only fields lay beyond the veil. Cosmos parts the veil, sending it flying to the sides, and before us opens a scene we had not expected.

A vast lake stretches out before us. The lake's color glows softly, and we recognize the fluid which makes it up immediately. Our suspicions are confirmed by the great crystals which rise up from the lake. This is . . . not what we had expected.

**Interesting,** Cosmos says, **you are the first to behold this sight silently. Why is this, Oh Cids?**

"The color reminds us of the tanks in The Great Cellar," The Scholar says, waving an arm, "the memories of the villains are fresh in our minds. We are reminded of those foes, that is all."

**Is that all?** Cosmos asks, **I see. You may take your leave, now.**

We incline our heads to the Goddess, and then turn. We begin to leave, each of us frightened by what we have seen, horrified by it. But we do not turn back. We cannot. Just as we prepare to turn toward the stairs, though, we are stopped.

**One small question, first,** Cosmos says as several Seraphs block our path, **Where is my Crystal?**

The Scholar turns to face Cosmos, "Ah, that."

**Yes, that. You went into the Crystal Room yesterday, and now my Crystal is missing. Where is it?**

"You're sure Sephiroth didn't take it when he cut down the door?"

**Don't try to deceive me, Scholar. Do you think the lack of a Crystal is all I have noticed?**

"Absolutely. I can't possibly see any other crime you may have perceived committed against you."

**Very well then.** says Cosmos, a whisp of light flying from off of her person and into The Scholar. The Scholar doubles over and gasps, but as he tries to clutch at the wound, several more whisps shoot out of Cosmos, as though they were tendrils, and into The Scholar.

The Engineer shouts and runs forward, but is knocked back by Cosmos' aura. The Seraphs restrain us, pull our arms behind our backs, and we are made to stand still. The Wanderer shouts something derogatory, and he is hit by the Seraph. What has become of us? Where was the strength we wielded against the villains?

"W-why?" The Scholar sputters.

**Why?** Cosmos responds, firing several more light-tendrils into him. **Let me tell you why. A counsel is being held by The Gods for the Cids. And no one told me about it. I don't need to be told though. I know you have been writing some kind of expose, Cid. You intend to have me dethroned.**

"I-" more tendrils, and now The Scholar is lifted upward.

**I am not done. You stole my Crystal, Scholar, or lost it to my enemy, I don't care which. You did incredible damage to my plan to regrow Crystals and use them to break free of this Endless Cycle. You have seen Cidian Lief. I cannot let you give this report, so I am stopping you now.**

"You can't kill me," lashes back our leader.

**I have no intention of killing you. And I am not finished.** More tendrils, and now we begin to notice. The Scholar's skin is filling with these vines, like foul veins they emerge under his skin. **Worst of all is that you dared to KISS ME. You, you foul, scheming little fiend. You will cost me my crown, my kingdom, my hope of being free of Chaos, you will cost me everything, trap me in this Endless Cycle, and yet you have the audacity to KISS ME!**

"So many Cycles," The Scholar spits, his tongue now swelling with Cosmos' power, "And yet you Gods have all forgotten that one which once was dearest. _A Trillion Stars a God._ Ha! What lies. You Gods no longer raise new Gods, who in turn should make new. Improvement and Progression are no longer your Endless Cycle. Sloth and Stagnation are now your creed."

**You hate The Gods so much, and loathe this work. I have seen some of the pages stolen by agents of Chaos. Do you despise us so?** Cosmos turns The Scholar around, lifting him over the edge of the balcony, out over the Crystal Lake. **Behold!** She cries. Ten bright lights fall from the Heavens and downward, into the great reaches of the Lake. **The War is begun.**

**Why are you still here?** Cosmos asks us, as her power chokes The Scholar's throat and begins to fill his eyes. He tries to turn his head to face us, but cannot. We stand firmly rooted to our spot, despite the Seraphs having released their grip.

"We will see the end of this." I say, "That is our master, you hold, our Scholar. We will see this come to it's end."

**Is this yours?** Cosmos asks, pointing a hand at The Scholar. **Your Scholar? No, no longer will he be The Scholar. I take that from him now. The man you knew is mine. He hates this war, and so he will see it all. His sin is a record, a report, and so he shall record the war he built. If I lose my throne because The Liar chose Kefka, The Scholar will stand by and watch Kefka fight.**

"Ye can say wha' ye wish, madam, but this is ar master. We will see this."

**THIS IS NOT YOUR MASTER.** Cosmos shouts. The Scholar's body writhes in agony, and his eyes are now laced over with the light-tendrils of Cosmos' will. **Behold The Narrator! He is mine, and not yours. He used his lips to defile the divine, and now, as punishment, he must use his lips for my purposes.** A shout issues from within The Scholar, and then his body seems to go limp for a moment.

Cosmos lowers him to stand on the balcony, and then the visible tie between them vanishes. Despite this, his eyes are still hers. "I am at The Lady's service," he says, "May I assist you gentlemen?"

And so it ends. Cosmos has taken from us the man we loved. There stands the body of Cid Previa, whom we would have followed anywhere. We had hoped that when he became a God, we could minister for him. We four had talked, and were going to make such a reccomendation when this was over.

But there Cid Previa does not stand. "Scholar," I say, "Your Mid, my friend. What shall I tell him?"

"Mid?" Answers The Narrator, "Who is that? I am sorry. You must be confused."

"Yes," The Wanderer says, "I suppose we do. Let us go, Cosmos. We have nothing more to see or say here."

**Begone, Cids. I have no further need for your services.**

_**Here follows the end of this tale.  
EPILOGUE**___

Some small time later, The Counsel of Cids was held. The Grand Hall of the Sacred Nebula housed this mighty gathering. All the Cids from across the Heavens and from the depths of Hell came, and even those Cids who had been cast into the Void. Cids not yet born attended, and The Highest himself presided.

The Four, Cid Pollendina, Cid del Norte Marquez, Cid Kramer, and Al-Cid Margrace were invited to speak. Other Cids who had been at Cosmos' Palace of Order bore witness to things they had seen. One by one, Cidolfas Orlandeau, Cid Randell, Cid Highwind, Cid Secondus, Cid Haze, and Cid Fabool IX testified of the things which had happened.

Cidolfas Demen Bunansa was brought before the court, and he delivered what was called The Chaos Report. It was a detailed account of the story from the side of Chaos. He fell under heavy attack from many for his decision to wake Kefka and Sephiroth, and for leading Chaos to the prison on the Cleft of Dimensions. In the end he was returned to Hell, The Highest believing that punishment enough for the man.

Cid Al Bhed took the stand and informed The Counsel of another side to the tale, of the struggle of a spirit named Benjamin against Queen Remedi to recover stolen pages of The Cosmos Dockets. He presented these files, which in addition to those stolen which had been scored by The Scholar and his fellows, included dockets from Altana and Faram, who had consented to send Cosmos aid in an attempt to get agents into her palace.

And in the end, Cid Kramer returned to the stand. He reached into his robe and produced a single Crystal. A hush fell over The Grand Hall, and every Cid present lent his ear to here the man speak. Cid was quiet at first, but, after clearing his throat and wiping his eyes, he spoke louder.

This, he said, was The Cosmos Report itself. All the things which had happened as they happened, as recorded by The Scholar. It was, in essence, a record of his memories. The Chronicler cleared his throat one last time, and then began.

"I am The Scholar," he said. "I am the fore of Lady Cosmos' selection team . . ."

_Upon the Balcony, all alone, The Narrator stood. His voice echoed out across the Crystal lake. It was a simple thing this Construct of Order spoke, yet the words seemed to be infused with a special power, a special meaning. They were the words which woke the Heroes._

"The world is veiled in darkness," he says. "The wind stops. The sea is wild, and the earth begins to rot."

From the shallows of the pool rises a warrior in black armor. Bright gold horns adorn his helm, and a long yellow cape. In his hand, a holy blade. The Excalibur. This warrior has no idea where he is, or how he got there, but he does feel something has changed within him.

"The people wait, their only hope, a prophecy."

A man in red, decorated with ribbons and sashes pulls himself out of the waters elsewhere. He is carrying many weapons. Within him there is an urge awakening. An urge to seek and to search.

"When the world is in darkness, ten heroes will appear."

A child runs his hand through his hair, his helm resting on his knee. Far and wide there is nothing but crystal and sea.

"After long adventures, the Ten have arrived."

A warrior in black stares down at his hands. He touches the helmet on his face, stares down at the reflective waters, and buries his face in his hands.

"And in the hands of each, the fate of the Crystals are held."

The brown haired youth stares out across the expanses. He cannot tell if he is here alone, or if there are others out there. He is not aware of where here even is.

"Unaffected by the weight of their tasks, the Ten will protect The Crystals."

A woman bursts from the waters, gasping for breath. She shakes her head to dry it. Her lungs labor, forcing her breaths in and out again and again as she strives to breathe freely.

"It is said that, in the distant past, radiance dwelt in these Ten."

Another man rests upon a great crystal. Nearby lays his sword. The man adjusts the pauldron on his shoulder, but does not get up. He is not sure he wants to yet.

"Now begins their journey, to save the light."

This man lifts his blade, looks around, and simply begins to wander. He cannot see the good in staying where he is. He will seek intelligence then.

"Will they vanquish the darkness, restore peace, and bask in the light?"

A man with a tail. He hangs from a crystal by this tail, thinking of what to do next. He isn't sure why, but he knows he must go on. It will be sad, though, to part from this treasure-stone.

"Or will they give in to their lusts, their desires, their natural selves?"

One last man takes his first breath, then another. He rolls onto his back and lies in the crystal waters. This place is pure and clean, and he wishes to enjoy it a moment.

"Together they will stand, alone they may fall. A war they now must wage. A grand conflict to resolve."

_A white hot space, beyond description. A man stands in it. He walks a while, no reason nor purpose at all. He simply enjoys the motion, the movement. Walking, he finds, is some manner of physical poetry, and he enjoys the feel of his muscles moving as he walks._

The man is slowly aware of himself. His body is almost completely naked, save a simple white robe he feels rub against his arms and legs while he moves. The fabric is soft, but not excessively so. It is perhaps made from cotton, though the lack of any trees, soil, or ground seem to bring that into question.

Eventually he hears a sound, and makes his way toward it. It's a soft noise at first, but it gets a little louder when he comes near to it. He realizes, as he walks, that he has heard this sound before: This is the sound of someone crying. Who, though? Perhaps no one he knows. No, not perhaps, it's very certain. He cannot, after all, say for certain who he himself is.

The source of the sorrow is found. A child, a little girl, no more than seven years of age, by appearance, sits on the ground. Her body is also naked, save for a white robe. Her head is covered in a beautiful red-gold hair, and her eyes, as she cries, are the most moving shade of blue. Like the sea, sparkling in a tropical sun, the color is.

The man sits down before this child and speaks, "Hush, hush," he soothes her. The girl throws herself into his arms, crying all the more violently. "Why do you cry, little one?"

"She is going to make me fight," the girl responds, burying her face in shoulder. "She'll take my mother and father from me, make me a killer, and force me to fight. My life is decided, and I am not even born."

"I am sorry," the man tells her, holding the girl as tight as he can, trying his best to soothe her, to calm her, to cease her violent trembling.

"Why couldn't you stop her? Why did you let her do this?"

"I am sorry," the man says, resting his own face in the girl's back. He does not know how, but he knows he has failed this child, this innocent little girl. He feels shame, but is not willing to give up entirely.

The man reaches into his robe and pulls out a tiny sphere of light. He holds it out for the girl to see. Presented with this strange development, the little one stops her crying for a moment.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Hope," he says. "Take it."

The girl reaches out and takes from his hand the offered light. She holds it in her own, and in surprise, sees that the same light remains in his own hands.

"See how it spreads, from one person to the next?" asks the man. "That is how hope works. It goes from person to person, filling each with as much hope as they will allow themself to hold. Take care of it for me, share it with as many as you can. Let's make this our Endless Cycle. Hope begetting Hope."

"I will," the girl says. She embraces the man again, and whispers in his ear, "Please stay with me until it is time."

"I will." he answers.

The End.


End file.
